


Resistance

by JimIntoMystery



Series: Futility [7]
Category: Star Trek
Genre: Delta Quadrant, Gen, The Borg, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 21:09:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 27,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3264467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JimIntoMystery/pseuds/JimIntoMystery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At last, Commander Kreighen has crossed the front line of the Borg war, back to Federation-controlled territory.  But he arrives with an even greater purpose than he expected.  Admiral Janeway's command of the war--and her cooperation with the Unimatrix Zero resistance movement--could spell disaster for all of civilization.  She must be stopped...but not relieved of command, which end the war in the Borg's favor.</p><p>Meanwhile, Janeway is held prisoner aboard the USS <em>Stormwind</em>, facing charges that her orders would have left that vessel and its crew adrift and defenseless behind enemy lines.  If she's found guilty, hundreds of lives can be saved, but Kreighen's mission...and the entire galaxy...will be lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Recording inquiry. Matter: Admiral Janeway, Kathryn E. Subject: Circumstances of desertion, USS _Stormwind_."

The computer sounded as unconcerned as Janeway appeared. She was thousands of light years from Earth, in command of an intergalactic invasion, and locked inside a brig. But to look at her, one would think she had her enemies right where she wanted them.

Captain Lancaster, however, was determined to call her bluff. "This inquiry," he began, "is to determine whether a general court-martial should be convened against Admiral Janeway, on charges of desertion of duty, contempt toward Starfleet Command, and conduct unbecoming an officer."

"You don't have the authority to make that determination," Janeway quipped. "Captains don't court-martial admirals."

"With respect," Lancaster countered, "this ship is presently unable to summon any officers of higher rank, as a consequence of your own actions. There is ample precedent for me to proceed under the circumstances--you established much of that precedent as the captain of the starship _Voyager_."

"I doubt Starfleet would share your particular interpretation," the admiral said. There was a wry confidence in her voice, like a parent humoring a disobedient toddler.

"Then they may take up the matter at the earliest opportunity. Until then, you are compelled to submit to this inquiry." Lancaster wouldn't flinch. In fact he wouldn't even break eye contact with his prisoner, until she shook her head slightly, declining to challenge him further. "Now then," he continued, "on stardate 63579 you attempted to commandeer a shuttlecraft to disembark from the USS _Stormwind_."

Janeway responded with an amused shrug. "Sergeant Ajax was the one who tried to commandeer a shuttlecraft..."

"'Sergeant Ajax,'" the captain interrupted, "is a military hologram prototype, programmed to follow your orders. I rather expect he will testify to as much."

"And if not for a century of legal precedents, that might mean something," she shot back. "You should have read the Uniform Code of Justice before you started this, Daniel. Chapter Five, Article III. Testimony by an artificial intelligence is inadmissible without a level 5 diagnostic performed by an expert on the relevant software--"

"I'm aware of the regulations," Lancaster rebutted, "just as you know the only expert on Mister Ajax is his creator, Utana Ijhel. I find it interesting, then, that she should happen to have disappeared some months ago under your orders."

Janeway crossed her arms. "We're at war, Captain."

"She's a civilian scientific adviser," he pressed. "She's not even a Federation citizen. And yet you ordered her--and three officers who would have otherwise faced criminal charges--behind enemy lines. Just as you've ordered _this crew_ behind enemy lines. And when I raised the issue with you, you first attempted to escape the ship and then disabled it. I demand to know why."

"Well, you're not going to find out," she taunted.

Lancaster almost lost his composure at that. Almost. After a deep sigh, he muttered, "You do understand what will assuredly happen to all of us if the Borg discover the _Stormwind_ in its current state."

She couldn't help but chuckle. "Oh, I have a pretty good idea. I've run into the Collective once or twice before. So I suggest you let me out of this cell and let me be on my way. I'll release the lockouts once I'm in a shuttle, out of tractor range."

"Why?" he thundered. "Why is it so important you run off on your own? Where in the galaxy could you possibly need to go?"

"I'm sorry, that's classified."

Lancaster looked like he was ready to punch a bulkhead, but he denied himself the release. "What part does this ship play in your 'classified' mission? Were we to simply bring you this far and let you be on your way."

"That's as much as you need to know right now."

"What about Commander Kreighen and his crew? Ijhel? Tirava? Jimenez? What have they to do with all this?"

"Nothing."

"Then why do you resist every question about what happened to them?"

"I can't tell you."

"Can't?" Lancaster wondered. "Or won't?"

Janeway stood up from her chair, summoned every ounce of her authority, and stormed as close to Lancaster as the brig's force field would allow. Staring him straight in the eye, she made herself absolutely clear. "Won't."

Lancaster matched the fire in her voice with a cold, measured tone. "Then this inquiry is concluded. You have left me no alternative but to convene a general court-martial. You have the right to select any officer aboard this ship as an advocate; I suggest that you do so."

He turned and walked away, leaving Janeway to stare holes through his back. Before he reached the main door, the admiral made a final appeal. "Mister Lancaster."

He stopped short of the exit, out of respect for her rank if nothing else.

"You're making a terrible mistake. This stunt won't get you what you want. It's only going to destroy your career, and jeopardize the entire war effort."

He didn't even turn around. "As I said, you've left me no choice. I must have answers."

"That isn't what matters here!" she shouted. "We have to defeat the Borg. Here, now. On our terms, before they destroy the Federation like they destroyed Bolarus IX. There are more important things at stake than your petty search for the truth!"

The captain continued through the doorway before turning to address her. "Admiral, my first duty is to the truth. If I'm to forsake that responsibility, then I see little difference whether the Borg destroys the Federation, or you do. Good evening."


	2. Chapter 2

Captain Lancaster might well have been satisfied to learn that Utana Ijhel was on Planet 48563-Theta. Ijhel, on the other hand, would rather have been missing.

That planet had long ago been overrun and assimilated by the Borg Collective, and more recently captured by the Federation-led invasion of Borg space. The cybernetic drones found there were freed from their technological implants and permitted to live as free people. Those who rejected this freedom--who remained sympathetic with the Borg way of life--remained on 48563-Theta as prisoners of war.

Ijhel was no Borg sympathizer, or even an enemy of the Federation Alliance, but she was a POW just the same. She had been provided to the invasion force on behalf of the Cardassian government, to assist in development of sentient, holographic soldiers to bolster the Alliance's ranks. But a series of misadventures had made her a liability to Admiral Janeway's command of the allied fleet. Being a Cardassian, Ijhel found what happened next rather predictable: Exile first, and when that didn't work, imprisonment and torture at "The Fate."

Officially, the Federation condemned torture. Its citizens, particularly humans, thought themselves above such cruelties. But Ijhel's inborn cynicism knew better. Faced with a prison full of intractable, but helpless, enemies, abuse of power was inevitable. That primal, self-righteous xenophobia built the Cardassian state, and had once made it a powerful rival of the Federation. So it id not surprise Ijhel in the least that the Fate treated her no differently than the Borg.

The isolation booth she'd been locked into was designed to prey upon the Borg's need for a constant exchange of information from one another. Deprivation of that sensory input was not so terrible a thing for her, but after ten hours of it even a Cardassian constitution began to suffer ill effects.

When they finally let released her from the damnable thing, she quickly succumbed to exhaustion. She awoke to find herself on the dingy floor of one of the prisoner's sleeping areas. It was dim--even for Cardassian eyes--and in her disorientation was gripped by fear. Ijhel saw a shadowy figure lurch forward and sat straight up, her breath short and panicked.

A friendly whisper reassured her. "Easy, Utana...it's just us..."

"Us?" she mumbled, terrified and half-dreaming. "Which us is that?" Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she made out the features of Ensign Jimenez. "N-Nathan?"

He knelt beside her, and let her lean on his shoulder. "Right...but we've got company!"

She shook her head and tried to regain her composure. "Who? Ajax?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to settle for me, Doctor." It was the incongruity of that voice that brought her back into reality. It was so impossible for Jake Kreighen to be standing in front of her that it couldn't even be a dream. Her keen mind came into focus, determined to get to the truth of it. And yet, there he was, just as she and Jimenez had left him, thousands of light years away.

"Commander, I..." She remembered what she'd said earlier and thought better of it. "I'm sorry, I just didn't expect to ever see you again--"

Kreighen waved it off. "Forget it. I'm anxious to find Ajax myself."

"Of course," she realized. "And Tirava?"

"She's...she's with Unimatrix Zero." Now she could tell there was something different in his voice. Kreighen had always been a bit moody, but now he sounded almost...haunted by something. "They lied to us...they've been lying to us all along. They said they had killed you and Jimenez. Tirava convinced them she was on their side. They think she left me for dead back in that nebula."

"Then how did you end up here?" Ijhel asked.

"That's..." He paused. "I'm not sure I can discuss that now. What's the security situation here?"

It immediately occurred to Ijhel that Kreighen shouldn't have needed to ask that. He would have already learned anything he needed to know about the prison's security just getting this far inside. But Jimenez was more trusting of his fellow human, and wasted no time on suspicion. "Pretty lax," the young engineer explained. "The Borg here aren't much of a threat without their cybernetics. The guards make rounds sometimes, but that's more to haze the inmates than to look for trouble."

"Good," Kreighen replied, "because we've got to get out of here." He had neatly changed the subject, Ijhel noticed.

Jimenez didn't. "It's already in the works, boss. The replicators in here are set up as dumb terminals--no useful components, but we've been able to use one to tap into the main computer core. We should have access to the communications system by morning."

"Seeing as half the galaxy is out to get us," Kreighen observed, "who did you plan on calling for help?"

" _Hrunting_ is docked in a depot on the other side of the compound," Jimenez continued. "We think they wanted to keep the shuttle out of the way, just like us. It's our best bet. That is, we'll take whatever we can get. But since we know _Hrunting_ forwards and backwards, it'll be easier to bypass their security lockouts."

"Agreed," Kreighen nodded. "What do you say, Utana? Think you can hijack our own ship?"

"I have a better question," she said as she pulled herself to her feet. "Why aren't we breaking out of here the same way that you just broke in?"

The commander was caught flat-footed. "I...I don't follow you..."

"You obviously must have arrived here from sort of starship. You found a way for it to beam you down here. Just have it beam us back up."

"That's not going to be possible." Kreighen began to pace around the room, clearly stalling until he could come up with a better answer. "My, um...benefactors didn't stick around after they dropped me off..."

Jimenez broke it up. "None of this matters right now! We already have a solution to the problem, so why worry about the extraneous details?"

"Because that sort of attitude causes errors," Ijhel, ever the programmer, insisted. "Commander, I can appreciate the need for secrecy. But you're plainly hiding something very important, and that leads me to believe we ought to know what it is before we go any further."

"Then we are in agreement." A new figure emerged form the shadows in the hallway, walking directly towards Kreighen. "We welcome your assistance, Commander, but it's unacceptable for you to hide anything from us that might be relevant."

"Who the hell is this?" Kreighen wondered, looking to his friends.

Jimenez rubbed the back of his neck and searched for the right words. "Well, you see..."

But the dark-eyed woman had other plans. "Verbal communication is inefficient. Commander, your knowledge and experience will become part of us now. Open your mind and hear our thoughts. Resistance is futile."


	3. Chapter 3

The young woman was clearly telepathic, and unnervingly attractive. Her black eyes seemed to pierce through Kreighen's soul...but her Betazoid mental abilities had no such luck with his thoughts. After a moment or two of intense concentration, she abandoned the effort. "Strange..." she muttered, tilting her head curiously.

Jimenez scrambled to salvage the situation. "Um, Ensign Merrani Vystir, this is Lieu--"

"--tenant Commander Jacob A. Kreighen, formerly of the USS _Bonham_ ," she finished, instinctively finishing Jimenez's thought before he could complete it. "I leaked information to the Borg that led to the destruction of your ship. He's worried you won't like me because of that."

Kreighen tensed up. "He's right..."

"Don't be so quick to judge, Commander," Ijhel countered. "Like it or not, we're all enemies of the Federation right now. For the moment, a Borg sympathizer is as good an ally as we can have."

Jimenez nodded. "Merrani uses her telepathy to keep the prisoners here linked like they were in the Collective. That natural processing power has been a huge help with tapping into the computer core. We need her."

The commander sized up the traitor with a suspicious look. "Then I suppose I need her too. There isn't time to wait for a better option to come along."

"That's...puzzling," Vystir replied. "No one in this collective anticipated that you could dismiss your feelings so easily. And your mind is closed to me somehow...you're very ineffable, Commander."

"Yeah, I get that a lot." Kreighen was just as perplexed by the Betazoid's failure to read his mind, until he remembered his recent experiences with the Q. During their machinations, he had been injected with a powerful drug designed to repel telepathy. Had they arranged that just to prepare him for this moment?

"Uhhh...maybe we ought to get back to work on that comm-link." Jimenez grasped Vystir by the shoulders and led her away from Kreighen, before she said anything he might regret. "There's still a lot to do. We'll check in with you later, Jake."

Kreighen eyed Vystir cautiously as they left. "Is it my imagination," he muttered, "or is he sweet on that girl?"

"I suppose stranger things have happened," Ijhel said. "Like traveling 2,000 light years without having a chance to shave."

He turned back to her and reached up to feel the faint beard that had grown on his face since he had last seen her. "I...I guess so."

"Nathan is a male," she continued, "and even human males become single-minded when they have a woman in their sights. I, however, do not have that problem. You can't evade my questions forever, Jake."

He wanted to explain how he got here. But what could he say? That he was visited by omnipotent entities from the Q Continuum, who hurled him across time and space? That they had shown him a threat so dangerous, they didn't dare risk direct involvement? She wouldn't have believed him even if he was free to tell her. Ijhel would wonder why these beings wouldn't have simply deposited Kreighen exactly where they needed him to be. 

It would be impossible to convince her that they knew what they were doing, that they could only intervene in the smallest of ways, to ensure that he could make it the rest of the way by himself. But Kreighen didn't need convincing--in a strange way he had faith in the Q, or at least in their talent for getting their way. They had left him here because they were sure Jimenez and Ijhel could get him back in his shuttle. That made the rest of his mission seem at least possible, and he needed that hope.

He took her hand in his. "Utana, when this is all over, I'll try to tell you everything I can. But there's too much...and a lot of it is dangerous. What matters now is that I have to help Admiral Janeway."

" _Help_ Janeway? After all she's done to us?"

"I've learned some critical information about...about everything. The war. The Borg. Unimatrix Zero. Species 10538. And Janeway is the only one who can keep it all from blowing up in the Federation's face."

Ijhel was speechless, until a crafty smile formed on her face. "The Alyseans."

"Huh?" He remembered the name, of course. It had only been a month or two since they had met the Alyseans. But he couldn't imagine why she was bringing them up.

"Oh, don't fret about giving me any sort of confirmation," the Cardassian said. "You can preserve your plausible deniability however you wish. But there's no harm in me deducing the truth myself."

"But...well...maybe you're right."

"You said it yourself, Jake--half the galaxy is out to kill us. The only true friends we've encountered in months were the Alyseans. They have the technology to get you here so quickly. They'd be in enough of a hurry to drop you off before resuming their course out of the quadrant. And as I recall, their captain was as enamored of you as their entire race was of human facial hair."

Kreighen blinked. Her version of it held up so well that he almost believed it himself. "You, ah, understand that I can't have this getting around..."

"I do _now_ ," she grinned. "Tirava would be furious, after all. But I prefer to remain neutral in your little romantic quarrels. Your secret is safe with me, Commander."

"I know I can depend on you, Doctor." It amused Kreighen to imagine that, somehow, the Q planned for Ijhel to fabricate a cover story better than anything the Continuum might have come up with.


	4. Chapter 4

> Captain's log, stardate 63580.3.
> 
> The _Stormwind_ remains adrift within Borg space. Weapons, sensors, propulsion, and shields are all offline or disabled. The Collective may no longer have the means to assimilate us, but if they discover us in our current state I have little doubt they will tear this ship to pieces in the attempt. Only our cloaking device stands between this crew and certain doom.
> 
> Chief Engineer Eudon has had teams working around the clock to defeat Admiral Janeway's security lockouts, without success. I remain convinced that a court martial is the only way that I can regain control of this ship without compromising the honor of its crew. Now I must assemble a panel to hear the case, which brings me to the doorstep of...an old friend.

"Well, it's about time you dropped by! Is this is a social call, or are you having me interrogated?"

Captain Lancaster didn't answer...at least, not until he was all the way through the door and it had hissed shut between him and the two guards posted in the corridor. "Neither, I'm afraid. How do you do, Elglen?"

"'How do you do?'" The Bolian repeated. "That's it? Janeway and I come aboard, you don't say more than two words to me. I ask around, and everybody tells me you're holed up researching some secret project. Next thing I know, I'm confined to quarters and you're announcing to the whole ship that Janeway's under arrest! How do you _think_ I do, Danny?"

"I have been a rather horrible host, I suppose."

"Fortunately for you, I happen to be a great host." Elglen hurried to his replicator. "How long has it been since you last had a Makara fizz?"

"Not since that night on Deep Space Nine, I'm sure." Lancaster began to stroll around the room, pretending to be admiring the decor. "That must've been...eleven years ago?"

"Eleven years, five months, and an odd number of days," Elglen clarified as he brought the cocktail to his guest.

"Hmmph." Lancaster sniffed at the glass thoughtfully, choosing his next words carefully. "I shouldn't have let you slip out of my life."

"It was war. Lots of hearts got broken."

"But only one of them weighing on my conscience." He sipped the drink pensively. "I shouldn't have let the Moropan campaign come between us."

"If it's any consolation, you happened to be right."

"Yes, of course...!" Lancaster realized he was just about to rehash the issue, and thought better of it. "But...the point is, I didn't take into account how strongly you felt about the matter. It couldn't have been easy for a Bolian to fight side-by-side with the Moropans."

"It turned out for the best," Elglen replied. "Moropa repaid us for our kindness, after the Borg assimilated Bolarus. I probably wouldn't be Janeway's adjutant today if I hadn't been there. I can't say I'd change a thing...well, maybe one or two things."

"Listen...before you grow too sentimental, I need to talk to you about this Janeway situation."

"I'm sorry, Danny." Elglen pulled up a chair, ready for a long argument. "Whatever you want to know about her agenda, I either don't know or can't tell you. You'll need to take it up with her."

"I have." Lancaster finished off his drink and took his own seat. "She's refused to answer my questions, and she's implemented this 'Omega Directive' on my ship until I agree to let her go."

"Then I'd let her go if I was you."

"Please be serious..."

"I am!" The adjutant held up his hand, demanding to be heard out. "Look, Danny, she's impossible. I know that better than anyone. But she has the whole war on her back. She thinks she's the only one who understands what we're up against out here. The only way you can work with her is to give her room for the occasional wild scheme, or secret plan."

Lancaster wasn't convinced. "I attempted to do that when she came aboard, and ordered the _Stormwind_ to ferry classified cargo behind enemy lines. Now my ship is inoperable and my crew is in mortal danger. I'm convening a court martial."

"You do that," Elglen warned, "and as soon as we're back at a starbase she'll have your commission."

"Yes, yes...she's already threatened as much. But we'll _back at a starbase_ , and the crew will be out of danger. My mind is made up, Elglen. The only question is whether you'll serve on the court with me."

"You want me?"

"You're the only other flag officer aboard."

"Aren't you worried that I have a conflict of interest?"

"No more so," Lancaster acknowledged, "than Janeway should worry that I have my own. I want her found guilty so that I may override her 'Omega Directive.' You want her exonerated so that I will have no choice but to yield to her authority. If those biases are kept in deadlock, then I should hope that justice may be properly served."

Elglen was impressed. "Sounds like a hell of a plan. And all I have to do is sit before a drumhead with my boss's neck on the line. Maybe I was better off when you were avoiding me. If you're determined to go through with this, Danny, then I'm all yours. But there's something you should know up front."

"And that is?"

"Whoever you get to prosecute this thing had better make a damned good case. Because if I can get Janeway out of this, I will."


	5. Chapter 5

Jimenez was exhausted. He'd only taken one respite from working on the escape plan, and Kreighen's sudden arrival had cut that short. Now he was fixated on completing the work, and saving his crew. He would rest, it seemed, after they were all safely away from this hellish prison, and not before.

The work proceed smoothly, but not quickly. He could only enter commands into the main computer through a backdoor he had created in the food replicator. Each command had to be verbally stated--as if ordering dinner--as low-level assembly language. The challenge, then, was to develop these commands, compile them, and recite them flawlessly without attracting attention from any guards. This was only feasible with the collective brainpower of the prison's ex-Borg population, arrayed into a telepathic network by their "queen," Merrani Vystir. But it was still up to Jimenez himself to improvise the commands in his head, and as dawn approached he was clearly worn down.

During one of his very brief breaks, one of the former drones approached him, holding a flask of coffee. The pale, gaunt man said nothing, his intention already clear. Jimenez respected that, and attempted no conversation as he accepted the refreshment.

He knew this man. In a sense he had come to know all of the prisoners through Vystir's mindlink. And yet, Jimenez didn't even know his name. Did he have one? Did it matter? They had nothing to say to one another, so there was no need for any particular label.

The young ensign sipped his coffee and ruminated on how this prison's "collective" might resemble the actual culture of the Borg. The idea of Borg culture, or Borg society, seemed laughable to the free-thinking people of the Federation. And yet these people, bereft of any neurotransmitters or cybernetic coercion, chose a lifestyle in which all social interaction is abstracted from physical existence. 

That much of it carried a certain appeal--the freedom from having to remember to say "hi" to every acquaintance every day, or from feigning amusement to get through an awkward lull in a conversation. That social "cruft" had always frustrated him, particularly in his Starfleet career. Jimenez was at his best when he could hide away from that nonsense, tinkering in some crawlspace. He'd never thought of himself as anti-social, but he found friendships easier when there was less to say. Perhaps that was why he had grown so close with Kreighen and the others--after a few months confined in the same shuttlecraft, the usual conventions of etiquette had long since fallen away.

"Where will you go?"

Jimenez looked up and realized the man with the coffee had left, and Vystir was standing to his left, staring at him. "I...I don't...what do you mean?"

"You were just thinking about reuniting with your crewmates," Vystir clarified. "Once you've escaped from this place, and recovered Lieutenant Tirava and Sergeant Ajax, where will you go?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "Wherever they want to go, I suppose. If you thought of the question while you were reading my mind, why didn't you just keep looking for the answer?"

"Because..." She smiled broadly, glancing away for a moment. "Because you enjoy the sound of my voice. And I enjoy sensing that from you when I speak."

He rubbed his temples. "Look, Merrani, I...uh...it's just..."

"You're concerned that you might hurt me." Not for the first time, Jimenez was struck by her ability to state his thoughts better than he could himself. "You don't have to be. The collective gives me an...emotional strength far greater than an individual would have."

"The Borg can regenerate heartbreak?"

"In a manner of speaking. Of course, romance as we understand it is irrelevant to them. But in my time with these people I have sensed concepts that might be considered...broadly analogous."

"I guess it's one big cyber-orgy, huh?" he joked.

Vystir shuddered, and bit her lower lip.

Jimenez realized what he'd done. In making his dirty little remark, he had--if only for a fraction of a second--imagined Vystir in the erotic act he had described. And she, of course, knew it. "Oh shit," he gasped. "I'm sorry, I--"

"I'm not offended," she smiled. "That excites you, doesn't it?"

He was beginning to regret the famous Betazoid penchant for blunt honesty. "This...! This is not the best time, Merrani. I've...really got to get back to work on this..."

"Oh!" She looked as though she had just read a surprising twist in a novel. "I see now. Yes. I should have been more careful, Nathan. I'm not normally so distracted."

"What are you...?"

"You've been hurt in the past," she explained, "and I shouldn't have come on so strong. Yes. No. I'll let you be now." With Jimenez wondering what on earth she meant by that, she turned to leave. "It's a pity, though...that we're about to go our separate ways. For the first time I feel as if I have something besides the Borg to hold my interest."

When she had finally left the room, Jimenez turned back to his replicator and got back to work. Of course, that "work" meant telepathically processing data with the ex-Borg prisoners, which meant being in constant mental contact with Vystir. Even when she was keeping her distance, she was always there in one way or another.

Jimenez gulped down the last of his coffee, and reminded himself to think only clean thoughts...


	6. Chapter 6

Moments after Ijhel was thrown into the infirmary, the Fate's commanding officer approached and stared down at her. "You and I have a problem," Commander Ackerman said.

"Do we?" Ijhel sat up and rubbed her forearm where it had broken her fall. "Well, I for one have enjoyed our conversations, so any enmity between us is hardly my fault--"

"Typical Cardassian rhetoric." Ackerman rolled her eyes as she reached down to yank Ijhel up to her feet. "I'm sure you'd love to twist everything around, so that I'm the hateful monster and you're the helpless victim in all of this. It's not going to work."

Ijhel dusted herself off. "Then perhaps you should demonstrate how one of you sainted humans gets to the point."

The commander held up a datapad. "This morning's security report was exactly like the last four hundred morning security reports I've read. In the past 12 hours, no perimeter alarms were triggered, no ships were detected in this solar system, and no security breaches were registered on the sensor net."

"I dare say you should put your staff in for a citation."

"The problem," Ackerman sneered, "is this: Twelve hours ago this facility housed three thousand, one hundred and forty-seven prisoners. A routine scan now shows three thousand, one hundred and forty-eight."

"Ah," the Cardassian smiled. "I can see why you summoned me for this matter. Now that I think of it, I believe I strangled exactly three men right after I gave birth to quadruplets--"

Ackerman flung the datapad across the room, narrowly missing Ijhel's head. "There is an intruder in my prison. I consider this a direct threat to the security of the United Federation of Planets. So you will take this matter seriously, and you will help me find this intruder."

Ijhel's smile fell away, and the look in her eyes began to resemble the seething, sincere anger in her heart. "You hardly need my help, madam, to run a level-three scan your own facility."

"Sensor readings within the prison are imprecise because of our duonetic field," Ackerman replied. "So the only way to know which blip isn't supposed to be there is to conduct a complete search of the entire compound. I don't have the staff, the time, or the patience for that. Even if I did, I doubt the Borg would cooperate. That's why you are going to convince them to find this invader for me."

"What incentive would _I_ have to offer them?"

Ackerman shook her head. "You don't understand the Borg like I do. They don't respond to rewards. All they understand is adapting to resist threats. So if one is harmed for concealing an infiltrator, the collective will adapt to do whatever it takes to avoid suffering the same fate."

Ijhel was beginning to see where this was going. "You want to put one of them in that wretched isolation box..."

"You still talk as if that booth is designed for punishment." Ackerman circled around Ijhel, her hands crossed behind her back. "I don't resort to torture, Cardassian. But since the security of the Federation is at stake, and the Borg only understand cruelty, I have to delegate. So _you_ will choose one prisoner, and subject that prisoner to whatever sick game your spoonheaded brain can imagine."

Commander Ackerman's ploy was now clear. She didn't give a damn that an unknown person--Kreighen--had mysteriously appeared in the prison. This was all theater, a pretense so that she could maneuver Ijhel where she wanted, without _technically_ compromising her ethics. Ijhel couldn't actually obey this command without justifying Ackerman's prejudices against Cardassians. She couldn't refuse without risking some worse fate for the Borg prisoners. Which left her with only one choice...the choice Ackerman had intended from the start.

"I'm afraid the most unpleasant experience available here is the one you've designed," Ijhel answered, gesturing to the booth. "And the only prisoner I feel entitled to speak for is myself."

"Typical," Ackerman huffed. "Leave it to a Cardie to weasel out of a dilemma in the most cowardly manner possible." She activated the booth, opening its door and initializing the sensory deprivation program. "Go ahead and take the easy way out, if you insist."

Ijhel approached the infernal device with some trepidation, recalling her first time inside it. She showed far less fear in glaring back to Ackerman. "Savor this while you can, Commander. You won't when I'm finished with you."

"Unlike the Borg," Ackerman said, stonefaced, "I don't respond well to threats." She tapped the control panel and the booth slid shut, trapping her prisoner inside.

Ijhel was enveloped in blinding light and a cacophony of random sound. She knew what would happen from her last experience--she would become lost in her own mind, until the passage of time would become meaningless, and the horror of living death would begin to drive her mad. For a Borg, dependent as they were on constant signals from a vast society, this had to be hell. But she was Cardassian, and her race prided itself on withstanding such difficulties. It would take more than this to break her. Just the need to prove that was enough to give her strength.

Besides, this time she had something to help her pass the time. "Computer," she announced, "run program Jimenez Three Alpha Six Upsilon."

A series of familiar chirps interrupted the white noise. "Communication access granted," the computer responded.

"Excellent work, Nathan," she grinned. "Now then, Computer, open a hailing frequency to the shuttlecraft _Hrunting_."

"Channel open," said the computer.

"Ijhel to _Hrunting_ , begin preflight sequence and activate transporters."

"Enter authorization code."

It was just as Jimenez expected--Ackerman's people had implemented security lockouts on all of the shuttle's key systems. Hacking into a replicator was a relatively simple matter. Bypassing a Starfleet computer's encryption was nearly impossible. For most people.

Ijhel cracked her knuckles and started to chuckle to herself. After all she'd been through, this would be a welcome amusement...


	7. Chapter 7

The greatest weakness in Jimenez's escape plan was Kreighen. If he was discovered, his inexplicable presence among the prison population would arouse enough suspicion to expose the entire plot. Hiding him from the guards was not easy--they monitored the inmates infrequently, but also randomly. Once again, Vystir was indispensable, since her "hive mind" allowed the Borg to coordinate a defense.

As soon as the sun rose, Kreighen, Jimenez, and Vystir were on the move, staying one step ahead of the guards and concealing Kreighen into large crowds of prisoners whenever necessary. This would continue until Ijhel gained access to the _Hrunting_. There was no way for them to know how long that would take--the only cue would be when Jimenez was beamed out of the prison and into the shuttle.

"The infirmary is on the northwest side of the compound," Jimenez mentioned to Kreighen, about four hours into their game of hide-and-seek.

"You already told me, Nathan."

"Sorry." He struggled to think of anything the commander really needed to know. "It's not heavily guarded, but it is secure. You'll at least need some kind of weapon or tool to get past--"

"I'll take care of it, Ensign."

"Sorry." A pause. "I think you'll need to get Utana about thirty meters from the building before I'll be able to beam you out--" Kreighen only responded with a bemused glare. "Sorry."

"Stop apologizing," Kreighen said. "I'll get her out of there. Worry about your own job."

"He can't," Vystir noted. "His 'job' is to wait until he's unexpectedly locked in a transporter beam. It's making him anxious."

"What...what she said," Jimenez admitted.

The commander shook his head. "You picked a hell of a time to get yourself an interpreter, kid."

One of the drones in the hall suddenly perked up and addressed them. "The alpha shift is moving this way from the east wing. Estimated time of arrival, six minutes, fourteen seconds."

They had received alerts in this manner all morning, and Kreighen still hadn't gotten used to it. This time it reminded him to bring up a touchy subject. "You know, everybody in this hellhole is being awfully helpful, but you two have never explained to me what's in it for them."

"Is that relevant?" Vystir asked.

"It is to me," Kreighen pressed. "Even if I wanted to take all these people with us, they won't fit in the shuttle. And in my experience, the Borg don't do favors out of the kindness of their hearts."

"We could at least tell people about this place," Jimenez suggested. "Jake, you haven't seen half of what goes on here. If the Federation really knew how these people are treated, there'd be reforms."

"That would be sufficient," Vystir replied. "Don't worry, Commander. Nathan won't resist your decision to leave me here. He agrees that that I'm too dangerous to take with you."

"Hey, I never said--" The air around Jimenez began to shimmer, and then molecules of his own body. Within two seconds he was enveloped by the transporter beam, and had completely disappeared.

Kreighen stared at the empty space for a moment, then glanced to Vystir. "He's not going to get to tell you this, but he'll miss you."

"Of course he will," she said. "He desires me sexually."

"Um...right." He looked around, sizing up the situation. "Well, if you're still willing to help, I could use a clear path to that infirmary of yours. Can your people keep the guards occupied for a few minutes?"

"Which guards?"

A perimeter alarm sounded throughout the compound before Kreighen could answer. "All of them, if it's not too much trouble!"

Within seconds, phaser fire could be heard throughout the Fate. It wasn't hard to guess that Vystir had already dispatched Kreighen's request, and that her drones were staging the most coordinated prison riot in the galaxy. 

Kreighen would have no trouble reaching Ijhel, but the escape plan was already falling apart. Jimenez must have tripped the security net by launching the shuttle, or perhaps merely by beaming out of the compound. In any event, he was going to have to rewrite the plan on the fly. "Vystir, you're with me."

"I am?"

He took her by the wrist and pulled her along as he moved for the nearest exit. "I can probably make it into the infirmary by myself," he told her, "but it'll be suicide getting back out. I may need a diversion." He could see doubt in her eyes. She still couldn't read his mind, and that made it difficult for her to trust him. That was fine with him; he didn't trust her at all. But it was crunch time, and there was no room for her to start having second thoughts. 

As soon as he could tell by her face that she'd follow him, Kreighen led her out into the open, in a mad dash across the compound. With any luck, the guards would be too busy with the prisoners in the barracks (or too surprised to see a scruffy lieutenant commander running around) to fire on them.

"Keep an eye out for something we can use to force the door!" he yelled as they ran. "A thin piece of metal would work, or maybe--"

They were interrupted by a guard backing out of one of the barracks, firing wildly at the throng of prisoners chasing him out. Kreighen realized this was no coincidence, sucker punched the guard, and picked up his hand phaser.

As he stood up with the weapon, he shrugged and smiled to Vystir. "Yeah, or this'll do."


	8. Chapter 8

"Who the hell are you?" Ackerman demanded when the phaser rifle was aimed at her head.

"Lieutenant Commander Jake Kreighen, Starfleet," the gunman answered. "Maybe you've heard of me."

"Well, I'm _full_ Commander Clara Ackerman, son," she replied, "so I suggest you put that thing away before you get into any more trouble."

"Where's Doctor Ijhel?" He knew his target would never answer. The question was for Vystir.

The Betazoid had little difficulty gleaning that information from Ackerman's surface consciousness. "Behind that hatch," she answered.

"You can't seriously have broken in here for that spoonhe--"

Kreighen shot her.

The force knocked Ackerman back against the wall, and then she fell flat on her face. Kreighen showed no concern; he continued to keep his weapon trained on her as he instructed Vystir. "Find a way to open that thing, or at least shut it down."

Ackerman struggled to get up on one knee, reeling from the low stun beam. "Y-you're insane!" she gasped. "You'd fire on one of your own for one of them?"

"Anybody who'd even say that isn't 'one of my own.'" Kreighen showed no hint of regret or hesitation; he kept it absolutely clear that he would fire again if he had to. "You're a disgrace to your uniform."

Vystir continued to fiddle with the isolation booth's control panel, until it hissed open. Ijhel stepped out, mildly disoriented but in far better shape than after her previous session. "Ah, Commander Ackerman!" she said with deliberately insufferable Cardassian ebullience. "I see you've met my friends!"

The sight of Ijhel's smug face emboldened Ackerman. Rising to her feet, she approached Kreighen until the barrel of his rifle was pressing into her abdomen. "You have no idea what this woman is capable of," she snapped.

"Of course I don't," Kreighen retorted. "I've only known her for about eight months. You've had her in here for what, a day?"

"Her entire species is evil! They destroyed my family, my life...the would have destroyed my career, if Starfleet hadn't realized I was right about them from the beginning. This uniform was a disgrace to me before you ever put one on!"

"Starfleet hasn't been very kind to me either lately," he conceded. "I suppose by your logic I should take that out on you. But no matter how unfair it is, that's not what we do in Starfleet...or the Federation...or the human race. We rise above that sort of hatred and prejudice, even if it gets us killed. We don't abandon those values when we go to war, we go to war to defend them."

"He's really quite good at these speeches," Ijhel taunted Ackerman. "If we get out of this, I expect he'll make captain someday."

"None of you are getting out of here alive," she spat back. "That Betazoid woman is a traitor and a known Borg sympathizer. As far as I'm concerned you're all helping the Borg. My forces will have you vaporized the minute you set foot out of this building."

"I figured as much." Kreighen glanced briefly to Vystir. "Any ideas on that diversion I was talking about?"

She nodded. "My collective has agreed to a course of action, Commander."

"Then let's move." He prodded Ackerman with his rifle. "You can walk out there, or I can drag you out."

She offered no resistance, and the four of them walked briskly, but cautiously toward the main quad of the compound. Seconds before they reached the door, Ackerman's comm-badge chirped.

"Strother to Ackerman!"

Kreighen nudged her with his weapon. "Answer it."

She grimaced, but tapped the badge as he asked. "This is Ackerman," she began. "Doctor Strother, I've been taken hostage in the infirmary, tell Narvy to--"

The prison's medical officer seemed to think he had more important things to worry about. "Commander, something has happened to the prisoners!"

She froze. "Explain."

"Reports are coming in from all over the compound! One minute they were rioting, and the next they all started convulsing. Heartrate and BP are skyrocketing--I can't pin down what's causing it!"

Kreighen had some idea. "Merrani, what are they doing?"

But the Betazoid could only manage an answer of one word: "Dying." She doubled over in agony, sensing the simultaneous destruction of every living node in her telepathic network.

"Their link apparently gave them therapeutic abilities," Ijhel noted. "Maybe they induced some kind of biorhythmic effect on themselves?"

Ackerman didn't care. "They're animals--lemmings leading one another off a cliff! They don't value life the way we do!"

"Oh, I think they value it well enough," Ijhel countered. "They simply value the lives of others more than their own. But I suppose you would have them let us be killed and then wallow in self-pity about it."

"How dare you--"

Kreighen moved between them, making sure Ackerman still saw his phaser. "Enough. Utana, help Vystir outside."

Ijhel knelt down to do as he asked, but wanted to be sure she knew why. "You're taking her with us?"

"I can't leave her here...not anymore." He pulled Ackerman's comm-badge from her uniform. "Do me a favor and think about that, Commander--it's safer for me to have a Borg sympathizer on my ship, than it is for her to be left alone with you."

"You..." She was livid, ready to tear them to pieces the moment they lowered their guard. "You won't get far!"

"You're probably right," Kreighen admitted. "But I guarantee you won't be the one who stops us." 

He fired into her belly, this time with the weapon set on high stun. Ackerman slumped to the ground, rapidly succumbing to unconsciousness. The last thing she saw was Ijhel's face, unbroken and prideful, mocking her for the folly of opposing the Cardassian in the first place.


	9. Chapter 9

When Kreighen materialized on the _Hrunting_ 's transporter pad, he took a moment to savor the feeling. It had been weeks since he had been aboard this ship, and the cool, processed air in the cabin felt comfortable, like a well-worn pair of boots.

The moment was lost when the shuttle was rocked by weapons fire. Kreighen barged ahead of Ijhel and Vystir into the forward section, finding Ensign Jimenez in the pilot's seat. "Report!"

"Six sentry pods were launched from the surface as soon as I got off the ground," Jimenez explained. "They locked weapons on me right after I beamed you up." He was busy entering evasive maneuvers, but found time to turn back and see his companions...and an unexpected passenger. "Is that...?"

"Yeah," Kreighen answered curtly--Vystir was not a priority for the moment. "What's our status?"

"The cloaking device is gone, and shields and weapons are still recharging." Jimenez performed a barrel roll to avoid another phaser blast. When nobody was thrown against the ceiling, he added, "Looks like the artificial gravity's working. She flies as good as ever, Commander, but--"

"But?"

"I mean...I don't know what Ijhel did to the computer, but...um...it's being real weird..."

"Utana?" the computer asked. "Utana, are you there? I'm detecting your life signs. Did we make it out in time?"

Kreighen gave Ijhel a very perplexed look and addressed the disembodied voice. "Who the hell is this?"

"Who would it be? This is Richard Daystrom of the Federation Science Council! Where is Doctor Ijhel?"

Ijhel, clearly pleased with her handiwork, offered a shrug with her explanation. "I convinced the operating system that it was a human consciousness trapped inside a computer."

"I _am_ a human consciousness!" protested "Daystrom." "You were the one who pleaded with me to regain my humanity!"

Kreighen just stared at her in disbelief. "You bypassed the security lockouts by _bringing it to life?_ "

"It's an old Cardassian hack," Ijhel continued. "Federation artificial intelligences are notoriously susceptible to existential crisis exploits. It's no more alive than a tricorder."

"Utana..." the computer pleaded. "You said my body was lying in a hospital bed...that you couldn't live without me...I trusted you..."

Ijhel grew annoyed with it. "Computer, isolate all data accumulated since restore point Ijhel-One, and purge from active memory."

"No!" the computer shouted. "I may not know if I'm a man dreaming I'm a butterfly, or a butterfly who dreamed I was a man. But no matter what you do to me I know this! _Cogito ergo sum_! If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not--" A long series of chirps replaced the frantic voice, and then--"Purge completed."

Another blast shook the hull. "Get us out of here, Nathan!" Kreighen ordered.

"What do you think I've been trying to do?" Jimenez snapped. "These things are tricky--every time I make a move for the upper atmosphere, they cut me off with a crossfire!"

"Better let me drive, then."

"Are you crazy? You can't switch out pilots in the middle of an aerial combat situation--"

"I know what I'm doing, Ensign." Kreighen towered over the young engineer, until Jimenez relented and stood up from the pilot's seat. As if to emphasize his point, Kreighen took his time assuming the controls, allowing the shuttlecraft to veer wildly for nearly ten seconds. "It's not about keeping the ship from going out of control, it's about knowing you can get it back _under_ control when you need to." When he decided the sentry pods were sufficiently confused, Kreighen boosted the aft thrusters for a sudden burst of speed into open space.

With that problem resolved, Jimenez finally had a chance to realize just how distraught Vystir had become since he'd last seen her. "Merrani? Are you okay?"

"Quiet..." she mumbled. "The voices are gone..."

"The Borg prisoners committed mass suicide to cover our escape," Kreighen elaborated. "I'm picking up two _Danube_ -class runabouts in orbit. Nathan, I need you at tactical..."

But Jimenez was transfixed by Vystir's plight. "We've got to do something for her! She has this condition...she can't handle being alone without hearing lots of minds in her head!"

"She'll have a torpedo in her head if you don't man your station!"

"I'm serious, dammit! You don't even care!"

"I can't hear anything!" Vystir screamed. "You're all shutting me out! Where did you go!?"

The shuttle was buffeted again, this time by a much more powerful blast. Kreighen had, for at least the seventh time in the past twenty-four hours, run out of patience. "Jimenez, get her out of here! Ijhel, _you're_ on tactical."

Jimenez wasted no time carrying the Betazoid into the aft section. Ijhel, on the other hand, demurred. "I beg your pardon? Commander, just because I can reprogram this ship doesn't mean I'm qualified to be its weapons officer..."

Eighth time. "Computer!" Kreighen shouted. "Divert power from life support to shields! Target the nearest vessel and fire phasers!" As the sound of charging phaser banks reverberated through the deckplates, he glared back at Ijhel. "It's an old Starfleet hack, I'm pretty sure you can handle it for me while I fly the blasted ship."

Wide-eyed and scared to death, Ijhel sat down at the tactical console and examined the myriad of flashing lights and sensor readouts. "Er...computer, determine the weakest point in the enemy's shield matrix, I suppose? And shoot at that."

"Please specify target," the computer replied.

"I don't care!" she groaned. She struggled to think of a way to choose, and finally stabbed a finger at one of the blips on her screen. "That yellow dot there."

"Unable to comply. This vessel is not configured to lock weapons on itself."

Kreighen rolled his eyes and evaded another attack run. "I'm starting to see why you and Ajax get along so well..."


	10. Chapter 10

Light years away, Tirava spared a thought for Jake Kreighen, and hoped that he would stay alive until she could rescue him.

That would be no small feat. She was trapped on Intercomplex 934, a Borg outpost captured by the resistance faction Unimatrix Zero. As far as the Zeroes were concerned, she had chosen to join them willingly after she and Kreighen had uncovered their dirty little secret. That lie wasn't going to hold up for long, so she needed a new ally. And so she had turned to the Zeroes' army of slaves, the Xhiryptyr'x.

Still, there was one Zero she felt she could depend on. "Ava? You in there?"

Commander Hardcastle pulled back the thin sheet that served as the door to a dingy, makeshift hut. There he found Tirava, sitting on a mat in the corner, watching an adolescent Xhiryptyr'x girl sleeping. "Not so loud," Tirava whispered.

"I've been looking all over the station for you," he whispered back. When he had shown her the sprawling shanty town the Xhiryptyr'x were kept in, he hadn't expected her to stay there all night.

Tirava debated how much she could afford to tell him. Finally she merely said "I made a friend."

"I see." Hardcastle's face grew dark. "Don't you think...don't you think that's going to be a problem?"

"Friends usually are."

"I mean," he caught himself raising his voice. "I mean, it's generally been a good policy not to get too close to the...the enlisted personnel. Chances are good you're going to have to send her off on some deadly mission one of these days."

"Flint, she's not an 'enlisted personnel.'"

"You know what I mean..."

"And you know what _I_ mean," she insisted. "The Zeroes are enslaving these people. You're a human--I know this bothers you."

Hardcastle held up his right arm--or rather the prosthesis the Borg had left in its place. "I'm a bit more than human, these days," he said. "All of us may not be in the Collective anymore, but we're still part of _a_ collective. It wasn't easy compromising on what to do with the Xhiryptyr'x, but we did."

Her one good antenna raised in anger. "So do we resist the Borg by making decisions the way they do? We cast aside whatever ethics aren't unanimous, until we're left with the lowest common denominator?"

"Ava, what's wrong? Yesterday you seemed fine with all of this..."

That's because she'd been lying. She tried to do it again, but she'd grown weary of it. Besides, she could hardly appeal to Hardcastle's humanity by denying the honor code that made her Andorian. So she told him the truth, beginning with the most dangerous fact of all. "The Borg Queen has been monitoring my thoughts."

"What? For how long?"

"I don't know...weeks. The Collective must have realized I was here, and that my neural transceiver didn't have the same barriers as the Zeroes. When I met Saa I realized she could block it out somehow."

"Saa?" Hardcastle wondered, and then looked back to the sleeping girl.

"She's all alone here," Tirava went on. "The Xhiryptyr'x may be hyper-evolved Kazon, but their gender roles are just as revolting. Her mother was killed, and her brothers all took mates. Until she's old enough to bear children, she's less than chattel to them. So they haven't noticed her telepathic abilities are intact." She could see the look of disbelief on his face. "I don't know why--when the Zeroes lobotomized these people, she must have slipped through somehow."

He shook his head, trying to take it all in. "You shouldn't be telling me this."

"I know," she said. "Your duty to Unimatrix Zero is clear, Commander. Saa and I are both security risks, and when you report this to General Korok he'll have us disintegrated. But I'm betting you won't do that, if I give you another way out."

"And what would that be?"

Tirava glanced down at Saa, as if debating whether to entrust the girl's life with Hardcastle. Then, at last, "I'm going to help her take over this station."

"That's crazy!" he warned her. "Don't you think the Xhiryptyr'x would have already done that, if it were possible?"

"They do what their patriarchs tell them to," Tirava argued, "and none of them have any way of contacting reinforcements. Saa does."

"You just said they barely acknowledge her as a person," Hardcastle scoffed. "What makes you think you can get them to follow her?"

"I'm not saying it'll be easy, Flint." She grasped him by the shoulders, looking deep into his eyes. "All I'm saying is that it'll be easier if you help us, and it'll be a lot easier on your conscience than subjugating an entire race."

He didn't answer...at least, not in words. But Tirava had worked with humans a long time, and she had come to see that their eyes said as much as an Andorian's antennae. He knew she was right. And when push came to shove, he'd stand with her.

"Tirava?" She turned and saw Saa finally waking up.

"That's right," she told the girl as she knelt down beside her. "I'm still here."

Saa looked straight past Tirava, at the tall cyborg on the other side of the hut. She didn't know Hardcastle, but she could tell he was a Zero, and she'd spent nearly half her life living in fear of them. Her reptilian eyes darted back and forth between this stranger and her new friend, desperate for some sign that she was safe.

"It's okay," Tirava assured her. "This is Flint. I knew him before I was assimilated. He's going to help us."

Saa blinked. "Is he the man you told me about? The one who loves you even when you don't do what he says?"

"Well..." Tirava looked back to see Hardcastle cocking his head, and smiled slightly. "He's one of them, dear."


	11. Chapter 11

General Korok towered over the young girl. "What is _that_ doing here?" he boomed in a harsh Klingon baritone.

"I am Saa," she answered. "I volunteer for the next mission."

"The 'next mission' for all the Xhiryptyr'x is to defend this station," Korok sneered. "I need no volunteers."

Tirava moved forward, reminding the general that the girl had her support. "That isn't what Commander Hardcastle's been telling me. You're planning a raid on a Borg tactical cube."

Korok glared at the Andorian, and then Hardcastle. "If I were," he growled, "that information would above your security clearance, Lieutenant."

"Come off it, Korok," Hardcastle said. "Ava's proven she can be trusted. That bluster might work on somebody that's never met a Klingon before, but we're all from the same quadrant here."

The general turned his stare back to the girl. "All of us?"

Saa wavered, but an encouraging nod from Tirava helped her recover her courage. "You need my people on that raid," she replied. "And you're going to choose me to do it, so there's no harm in me knowing about it. Sir."

"Bah!" Korok spat. "This your doing, Tirava. The Xhiryptyr'x men will never allow--"

"The Xhiryptyr'x men only do as their told because you force them to," Tirava argued. "At the first sign of weakness, they'll turn on Unimatrix Zero, and undermine our entire offensive against the Borg. We need to convince them to fight alongside us, not under our heel. If I can help Saa rise to power within their community, she can convince them for us."

Korok stormed toward her, confronting her nose-to-nose. "These aren't Andorians who cower at the sight of their women!" he shouted. "They will never accept her!"

She nearly laughed at his outburst. "They also aren't superstitious Klingons who cling to their dogma despite all common sense! If she proves herself in battle, even her sex won't stop her from gaining their respect."

"No," he muttered. "They'll never accept that she could do it."

"Which is why it needs to be a raiding party of two," Tirava countered. "Saa, to take the credit, and myself to ensure she doesn't fail."

Hardcastle backed her up. "She's right, Korok. If we put a single male on the team, the Xhiryptyr'x will tell themselves he did all the work. And Starfleet immunized Ava against Borg assimilation, so she's the perfect choice for an escort."

The surly Klingon mulled it over. It had only been a few weeks since Unimatrix Zero lost a ship due to a Xhiryptyr'x revolt. And a small party did make sense for such a delicate operation. "You're sure this slip of a girl is capable of what you're asking?"

"Yes, they are," Saa told him. "But what matters is that _I'm_ sure. If you won't let me do this, at least have the courage to address me."

Korok was stunned by this attack on his honor, but intrigued by the spirit it took to make such a challenge. Saa looked to weigh barely 50 kilograms, but there was a gleam in her eyes that he had seen before, among the Klingon warriors he had known before he was taken by the Borg. "Very well," he rumbled, looking squarely into those eyes. "Your fate is in Tirava's hands now. Pray to your gods that it is not misplaced." Glancing up to Tirava, he added, "Hardcastle will arrange for a scout ship. You leave within the hour. Do not fail."

Tirava nodded, and led her young charge back to the docking bay where her people were quartered. Hardcastle turned to follow her out of Korok's office, until he felt the general's hand on his shoulder.

"She is planning something," Korok muttered. "Watch her carefully."

***

"You handled that well," Tirava told Saa on their way through the station.

"I thought he might kill me where I stood," she admitted. "But you were right about him. Are all Klingons like that?"

"More or less. They may act like bullies but deep down, they admire anyone who will stand their ground. I think your people can learn that too, someday."

"It's hard for me to imagine that. He was right about my people. Even if we do succeed in this mission, the men would sooner kill me than accept me as a peer."

The thought of that sickened Tirava, but she knew better than to let Saa see that. "The Xhiryptyr'x only respect power. But you have a power they lack. If we can find a way to turn that to your advantage, you'll be in a position to teach them to respect something else instead."

"What else is there?"

The Andorian smiled. "Bravery...integrity...conviction. Without those qualities, power is hollow. When the Borg controlled me, they made me strong, but without my honor, it meant nothing."

Saa nodded, carefully absorbing this lesson. "What _is_ honor?" she asked.

It was a difficult question, but Tirava was delighted to hear it. As she considered her response, she couldn't contain the pride she felt for her pupil.


	12. Chapter 12

"This court is now in session." Captain Lancaster rang a large bell, calling those assembled in the mess hall to order. "I have appointed Captain Elglen of Bolarus to serve in this court. Let the record show that Admiral Janeway has the right to object to any of the members of this panel..."

"Indeed I do," Janeway smirked from the defense table.

"However," he continued sharply, "as no more suitable officers are available, I am compelled to suspend that right. Admiral, you are entitled to use this ruling as grounds to appeal this court's verdict, if necessary. Do you consent to the service of Lieutenant Commander Mindek as prosecuting officer, and to myself as president of the court?"

Kathryn Janeway offered a casual shrug. "Looks like I have to."

Lancaster overlooked her insolence. "You have not selected an officer to represent you as counsel. Is it your intention to provide your own defense?"

"I can't think of anyone more qualified."

"Then you may proceed, Mister Mindek," Lancaster ordered.

Everyone in the room returned to their seats, save the Benzite prosecutor. "Your Honor," she began, "Admiral Janeway is the supreme commander of the alliance of the United Federation of Planets, the Klingon Empire, and the Romulan Star Empire in their war against the Borg Collective. By its nature, this conflict has placed the allied fleet at the edge of Borg space, thousands of light years from Paris, the First City, and Ki Baratan. As a result, the admiral has been entrusted with enormous political and military autonomy.

"Evidence has emerged that Admiral Janeway has abused this power, to serve her own interests. Instead of serving the governments she has been chosen to represent, she has conducted the Borg invasion with a series of covert operations advancing her own agenda. Rather than accounting for her actions through the chain of command and with her Romulan and Klingon counterparts, she has kept her own counsel and resisted efforts to investigate her activities.

"I can and will prove that Admiral Janeway disregarded the Starfleet Code of Justice when she unilaterally ordered Jacob Kreighen on a secret mission rather than bind him over for an inquiry into his insubordination. I shall present testimony that she willfully expressed contempt towards the authority of either Starfleet Command and the Federation Council to define the parameters of her duty. Furthermore, after ordering this vessel into enemy territory, Admiral Janeway sought to abandon the USS _Stormwind_ and its crew, placing her private interest ahead of the lives of over four hundred of her fellow officers.

"Members of the court, it is imperative to the success of the current war, the security of the Federation, and the integrity of Starfleet that Admiral Janeway be found guilty of the charges against her, and reprimanded for her crimes as an example to anyone else who would construe our highest responsibilities as a justification to answer to no one."

Lancaster nodded to Mindek as she returned to her seat. "Thank you, Commander. Admiral Janeway, since you have elected to represent yourself, you may offer a rebuttal."

Janeway didn't stand. She didn't even sit up. Instead she remained slouched over in her chair, looking positively bored. "She's wrong," was her opening statement. In conclusion, she added, "I'm not guilty."

"That's all?"

"You want more?" She finally rose from her seat, arms akimbo, and strolled around the room. "This entire hearing is a farce. It's illegal. Naturally the 'president' of this kangaroo court won't allow those facts to be used to disqualify these proceedings. So I'll do the next best thing and have them entered into the record.

"Let's summarize what's happened here. I came aboard this ship and ordered it to escort me on an important mission. Since I outrank everyone else here, I am under no obligation to justify that order, or to explain any of the details of that mission. But since Captain Lancaster wasn't satisfied with that, he's come up with this...creative interpretation of Federation law. He doesn't have the authority or the evidence to charge me with a crime, and he doesn't even have the personnel necessary to assemble a court martial. So he's prepared to bend the law as far as he has to, just to keep me from telling him what to do."

"Admiral, you're out of order," Lancaster warned.

"So are you," she retorted. "This is a drumhead trial. You're not interested in learning the truth, only in convicting me as quickly as possible." She looked to her adjutant. "Captain Elglen, I hereby order you to put a stop to this, and assume command of the _Stormwind_ from Captain Lancaster."

Lancaster looked to his old friend, and lowered his voice. "Well, sir, what shall it be? You told me you'd find a way to help her, and she's just delivered it to you."

"Danny..." The Bolian struggled to find the right words. "It doesn't have to be like that, if you call this off now. Don't make me have you thrown in the brig."

"I imagine you'll find few volunteers to carry out that order," Lancaster said. "Janeway can transfer command to you, but it's still my ship."

"You'd really use the threat of mutiny just to make your point?"

"If my point weren't so important, she'd have nothing to fear from this court. That is, unless you agree with her that this cannot be a fair trial. Do you trust me, Elglen?"

"That isn't the issue..."

"On the contrary, it's the only one." Lancaster addressed the entire room. "The defendant has made, in essence, a motion to dismiss. Mister Elglen will deliver the court's response."

Elglen glowered at his comrade for placing him on the spot. "Motion..." he stammered, before working up the nerve to make eye contact with Janeway. "Motion denied."


	13. Chapter 13

Narb-Uzek was visibly uncomfortable on the witness stand. A staunch pacifist, he could barely tolerate serving in a time of war, let alone participating in the adversarial process of a trial. However, as the _Stormwind_ 's chief of security he saw it as his solemn duty to preserve the peace aboard his ship. So he endured the knots forming in his stomachs, and offered his testimony.

"Lieutenant," Mindek began, "where were you when Captain Lancaster initiated red alert, following Admiral Janeway's unauthorized beam-out?"

"Objection," Admiral Janeway interrupted. "The prosecution hasn't established the transporter beam was unauthorized."

Lancaster began to speak, but Elglen beat him to the punch. "Sustained. Stick with the facts, Commander."

Mindek restated the question. "Where were you at the time of the red alert?"

"On the bridge," Narb-Uzek answered. "I was already investigating the transporter signal when Captain Lancaster ordered that the admiral be located."

"As chief of ship's security, how did you respond to that order?"

"At first, I remained on the bridge to coordinate the search."

"'At first,'" Mindek repeated. "What changed?"

"When I received reports of weapons fire on deck seven, Ensign Godavarthy took over for me on the bridge, so that I could assist my team in securing the ship."

"Against what were you securing the ship?"

"At the time, I believed that Admiral Janeway had been taken hostage by an armed, hostile force. My orders were to locate the Admiral, and my priority was to ensure that neither she nor that hostile force left the ship."

"I see. Why did you not immediately consider the possibility that this 'hostile force' was Janeway herself?"

Narb-Uzek was baffled by the question. "I suppose...it seemed unlikely that an admiral would fire upon Starfleet officers."

"Indeed," Mindek huffed. "How many officers did Janeway fire upon?"

"One."

"And her holographic associate?"

"Twenty-seven."

"Twenty-seven. One final question, Lieutenant. As an authority on the security of this ship, what is your assessment of its present status."

"This ship is defenseless," Narb-Uzek reported. "Propulsion, navigation, weapons, shields, and sensors are inaccessible to the entire crew. Our last known position was within Borg space, and we are carrying sensitive cargo which could conceivably attract the Borg's attention. In the event of an attack, evacuation will be difficult due to the loss of all escape pods."

"As chief of security, have you conducted an investigation of these problems?"

"I have."

Mindek returned to her table and picked up several datapads, which she distributed to defendant, the witness, and the members of the court. "At this time, I offer the report of that investigation into evidence as Exhibit 'A,'" she explained. "Mister Narb-Uzek, would you tell the court the cause of the aforementioned security breaches, as determined in your report?"

The Grazerite sighed. Mindek enjoyed all of this formal procedure, but he found it pretentious and unnecessarily combative. "I reported that the escape pods were all launched by Admiral Janeway, in an attempt to divert security from apprehending her. I found that our key systems were rendered inactive by a top-secret protocol enacted by Admiral Janeway."

"No further questions," Mindek concluded. Glancing to Janeway, she said, "Your witness."

The admiral rose and casually strolled toward Narb-Uzek. "Lieutenant, do you know where I was on stardate 62104.3?"

"No, sir."

"I prefer 'Admiral,'" she noted, "but thank you. What about my activities on stardate 62934.0, any idea what I was up to then?"

"I wouldn't know."

"Why do you suppose that is?"

Mindek pounced. "Objection, calls for speculation."

"Withdrawn," Janeway replied, with slight irritation. "Let's put it another way, shall we? Would you have any reasonable expectation that Starfleet would keep you appraised of the decisions and movements of its most senior officers?"

"No," he admitted, "not unless the security of this vessel were affected."

"Are you certain? Suppose we were fighting a different war--against the Dominion, let's say. I've ordered your commanding officer to defend the Bajoran Sector with minimal reinforcements and supplies. Does this entitle you, as chief of security, to know how these orders fit into the overall strategy of the entire fleet?"

"No, it would not."

"Why?"

There wasn't a single person in the room who didn't know the answer. But Mindek had been given her time for pedantic rhetoric, and now it was only fair to afford Janeway the same opportunity. "Because that level of detail would be vital intelligence," Narb-Uzek answered. "Distributing it to all officers at or below my security clearance would exponentially increase the risk of a leak."

"So you're saying there are matters an admiral simply cannot share with a lieutenant, no matter how suspicious they may seem. Is that right?"

Narb-Uzek looked to Lancaster, but found nothing in his captain's eyes to help him avoid the natural response. "Yes, Admiral."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," she smiled affably. "You're dismissed."

Reflexively, Narb-Uzek stood up to leave at her command, but he quickly thought better of it. Captain Lancaster was ahead of him. "The witness is permitted to step down from the stand," he proclaimed, "and will be dismissed when this court deems it necessary."

Janeway shrugged. "Sorry, force of habit."

Lancaster furrowed his brow as he tried to come up with some way to pave over this defiance of his authority. In the end, though, he could only nod to Narb-Uzek, indicating that he was--truly, this time--dismissed. Janeway's plan of attack was becoming clear to him. She was going to defy him at every turn, dragging out the trial until he found her in contempt of court. That is, unless she simply dismantled the prosecution's case first.


	14. Chapter 14

Vystir awoke in a dark, unfamiliar place. She couldn't see a thing, but she could sense Jimenez's presence very close to her.

"It's okay," he whispered. "I'm here."

"Where are we?" she mumbled.

"We're on the _Hrunting_ , remember? I gave you a sedative."

She sat up, trying to get her bearings. "The... _Hrunting_?"

"Well, this is the cargo hold," he explained. "But since we've never had any cargo I've kind of turned it into my personal quarters."

Waiting for him to speak was tiresome, so she gleaned whatever else she wanted to know from his surface thoughts. The shuttle had safely escaped Planet 48563-Theta. It was traveling at high warp. Jimenez didn't know where they were going. He didn't care. His only concern since they had left the planet was Vystir and her well-being.

He wondered what she thought of this place. He was apprehensive about a relative stranger knowing he spent so much time in a cargo hold. No. He was comfortable with that. The apprehension was about her realizing he _enjoyed_ spending so much time here. Sitting in the cool, metallic space was a welcome relief from making repairs and socializing with the others. There were times when he would stay there all day, unless duty demanded otherwise. He loved his crewmates like family. But he cherished his solitude. It was in this context that he had brought her here.

Vystir saw a faint gleam as Jimenez activated a portable hand-lamp and set it on the deckplate. Once she could make him out in the light, she could plainly see his exhaustion. Still, his attention was entirely on her comfort, her needs. "I thought you'd be hungry," he said, "but I--"

"You didn't know what I like to eat," she finished. "So you replicated a bowl of mangú, a dish of mashed, boiled plantains with sauteed onions." She realized what she was doing. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he said, sitting beside her with the bowl in his lap. "Like you said, I like the sound of your voice." He offered her a spoonful of the meal. "Are you feeling better?"

"I've...adapted," she replied as she ate. "But the loss is still there. Three thousand, one hundred forty-four people..."

"How did it happen?"

"I told the collective that Commander Kreighen needed a diversion to cover his escape. We debated the matter for at least fifteen seconds, but in the end the collective agreed that all but one of us would self-terminate. The others all knew how, from their time as Borg drones. I was the only one who couldn't participate in the suicide, and since my telepathy was crucial to maintaining the network, I had to be the sole survivor."

Jimenez thought he understood. "We weren't going to take any of you with us. They knew if you were the only one left, Jake might change his mind. They sacrificed themselves to save you."

"In a sense," she mused. "From their point of view, they saved the collective. The thoughts and experiences I shared with them will continue, through me. My survival is their survival."

"I guess that must give you some comfort..."

"Not as much as I expected," she confessed. "Nathan, I don't know that I can explain it. From birth I have been inundated with the thought of others. The chaos was unbearable, but isolating myself from it nearly drove me mad. I came to admire the Borg for the way they linked minds in perfect harmony. When I was imprisoned with the others, I thought I had found a taste of paradise. Now they are gone, and I find myself here...alone..."

"You're not alone," he assured her. "I mean, okay, there's only three other people on this shuttle, and you can't read our minds whenever you want. But what I mean--what I'm trying to say...I won't let you down, Merrani..."

She perked up, as if she had heard a noise. "What's the matter?" she asked him.

"Nothing, I just can't find the right words..."

"Don't shut me out, Nathan...not now. Please..."

He started to protest, but there was no resisting her plea. Jimenez sighed and relaxed his concentration. His thoughts begin to pour into her mind's eye. 

He was thinking of another woman. A Borg woman. He'd met her while the _Hrunting_ had been assigned to Unimatrix Zero. She had been born among the Collective, but was disconnected by the Zeroes and taught to embrace her individuality. Her designation had been Two of Six. Jimenez had killed her. Why would he have killed her? One of the Zeroes, a Cardassian named Ledret, had gone mad and arranged to reactivate the former drones' neural transceivers, creating a new collective in which he had complete control. Nathan and the others found a way to stop him, but he used his army to attack them. In the commotion, Two of Six begged Jimenez to end the agony of her resistance.

These memories were unusually painful for him. She wanted to know precisely why. It wasn't just the mercy-killing--his conscience was clear on that matter. Nathan regretted that he had not been a better friend to her in life. Two was ingrained in Borg culture, and had little use for overt affection or emotion. But in spite of that deliberate distance, they cared for one another, if only as colleagues. One day--the last day or her life--Two abruptly offered to let Jimenez avail himself of her sexually, should the need arise. It was a deeply embarrassing moment for him. She didn't really know what she was saying--she proposed it the way an engineer might suggest trading shifts. He declined her altruism, of course. But when she was dead, he began to regret that decision.

Now he was here. With Vystir. Discussing the nature of the Borg afterlife. And though he would never come out and say it, it pained him to think that Two of Six would _not_ continue to exist in the Collective. Her thoughts and experiences ended when he overloaded her nervous system with a phaser blast. She was gone. Forever. And he hadn't even had the decency to let her...let her love him...

Tears welled in her eyes. "I...I didn't know you harbored this pain..."

Jimenez took her hand, more concerned for her than himself. "It's okay, Merrani. Really."

"Don't," she told him. "Don't hold back for my sake. Show me everything, Nathan."

"Everything?" That terrified him. "Merr-- _Ensign_ \--I'm not sure we should...um..."

Vystir clutched him by the shoulders. "I know what you want, Nathan. It's all right."

"W-what I want?"

She reached for the seam of his uniform jacket, and began to open it.

"No..." he murmured. "No, this isn't right, not like this...it doesn't feel right..."

"Feelings are irrelevant!" she snapped. "I just...I don't want to be alone, Nathan...please..."

He saw the conviction in her eyes, and stopped arguing. He simply leaned toward her, and kissed her like he had wanted to since the moment they met.


	15. Chapter 15

"You needed that," Vystir told Jimenez afterwards. She was right.

The weight was finally off his shoulders. Not just from the stress of escaping The Fate, but everything. The weeks that the Federation had treated him like a war criminal. The months spent aboard the _Hrunting_ , wandering through Borg space. The trauma of putting Two of Six out of her misery. The battle with Species 10538 and the hard choice to betray and slaughter an entire crew of Borg to win that fight. That day he was taken against his will on a rogue mission, and Janeway punished him alongside Kreighen. The time he walked in on Tirava in the sonic shower.

None of that mattered anymore, which wasn't an easy thing for him to admit. All his life he had dealt with his problems by bottling them up, or shutting himself off from them. Even when the war started, he fought so hard to keep himself above his troubles, until he was terrified to sink back into them. It was his misadventures with Kreighen and the others that had pushed him to his limit. For the first time in months, he felt as if he'd been pulled back.

He couldn't think of anything to say. The last time he'd made love, he'd been so damned nervous that he had a dozen questions to ask--was it good, did he hurt her, was he being too selfish, too aggressive, too passive, and on and on. But Vystir had shared her mind with him, so they had both felt one another's experience. For the first time he could remember, there was nothing for him to worry about.

So Jimenez just laid there, on the floor of the cargo hold, with Vystir curled up alongside him. He could feel her in his head, discovering all she could about him. Was it like a Borg drone assimilating data from a computer? He didn't care. All he knew was that it was an...intimate sensation. So he made no attempt to resist as she probed into every dark, awkward, or uncomfortable thought in his brain. Somehow, knowing she was seeing it all, and found no cause for criticism, made him more comfortable with his own consciousness.

The only thing that might have made him more comfortable was a bed. "When we get out of this," he told her as he stroked her hair, "I want to find someplace nice...and do this again."

"Mmm...how do you define 'out of this?'" she asked.

"You know, when we're not stuck in this shuttle, running for our lives."

"When will that be? And where? This ship can't make it back to the Alpha Quadrant without help from the Federation or Unimatrix Zero. Neither of them is likely to assist us."

"That's fine with me," he muttered. "After everything they've put us through, I wouldn't want their help."

"Not even to see Earth again? Your family?" She sensed his answer before she finished the question. "No...it's a moot point. The Federation would never let you get near them, now."

"Besides," he added, "this is my family, too. Jake, Utana, Tirava, Ajax..." He kissed her forehead. "And you. My folks back in the Bronx can take care of themselves, but I have to stick with all of you."

"Nathan..." She found it hard to say the words, but necessary. "I don't know that there will be a place for me where you and your friends are going."

"We don't even know where we're going yet," he smiled, "and I'm sure I get a vote. Have you heard of the Alyseans?"

"Vaguely..."

"Beautiful people," he elaborated. "We ran into them a couple of months ago, on their way out of the galaxy. Crazy about sex. After we rescue the others I bet we could still catch up with their ship..."

She could feel the appeal of this fantasy to him, but she couldn't quite share it. "It wouldn't replace my collective..."

"I'm sorry." Jimenez squeezed her a little tighter. "I don't know what can. I thought being with me helped."

"It does," she assured him. "But one voice can't take the place of thousands. Not for long."

Now he had something to worry about again, and he found it odd that the burden felt comfortable, like flexing a sore muscle. "How about this--I've heard stories of drones breaking away from the Borg and starting their own collectives. We could search for one of those, maybe."

"You'd do that for me?"

"I'd be willing to try. I mean...unless you're trying to tell me you want to go join the Borg..."

"I...I thought that's what I wanted," she considered. "But now...maybe there are other options. Maybe you can help me find them. So am I."

That last sentence threw him. "'So am I' what?" But he understood that she was agreeing with his unspoken thoughts, when she rolled on top of him.

"Open your mind," she breathed. "Focus on those Alyseans of yours. And I'll show you what I learned in the fleshpots of Chalna..."

It was the last thing either of them said aloud for the next two hours.


	16. Chapter 16

As Sergeant Ajax materialized in the _Stormwind_ mess hall, his startup tests revealed to him that his tactical subroutines had been disabled. He respected the precaution, given that he was a prisoner aboard this ship, and an extremely dangerous one. It was unnecessary, however; he was as determined to uncover the truth behind Admiral Janeway's actions as anyone.

"Sergeant Ajax, reporting for duty," he declared.

"You've been called to testify before this court," Lancaster explained. "You are hereby compelled to take the witness stand."

Ajax took a seat in the center of the room, and watched the Benzite prosecutor circle around him. "Please identify yourself for the court," Mindek said.

"Sergeant Ajax," he repeated, bound as he was by protocol. "Military Assault Hologram prototype, program Ijhel-seven-alpha. Mark three, revision beta. Unique identifier: zero six four victor hotel five juliet seven zero bravo papa niner niner whiskey oscar."

"Let the record show this is the same hologram apprehended by Lieutenant Narb-Uzek in shuttlebay two," Mindek announced. "I also enter into evidence exhibit 'B,' a Starfleet duty report assigning the same hologram to the command of Lieutenant Commander Jacob Kreighen. Sergeant, is this report accurate?"

"It is, sir."

"Provide, in your own words, a description of your primary purpose."

"I was created as part of a Starfleet project to design a line of holographic soldiers," he responded. "My matrix is a prototype for a new design by Utana Ijhel of the Cardassian Ministry of Science. Her intention was to resolve several key technical limitations that have stalled the project. When my design is perfected, I will be used as the template for an entire army."

Mindek stroked one of the large whiskers on her lip. "In other words, Starfleet commissioned the development of an experimental new weapon, and then deployed the only prototype before it was completed."

"Objection," Janeway called.

"Withdrawn." Mindek had made her point anyway, and was ready to move on. "What role did you serve under Kreighen?"

"Detached duty," Ajax answered. "I was primarily there to accompany Doctor Ijhel, so she could continue development on my program."

"Then why was Ijhel assigned to Kreighen?"

He chose his words carefully, in compliance with the law. "Starfleet did not provide me with that information."

"Then what was your team's mission?" she pressed. 

"To function as liaisons between the Federation Alliance and Unimatrix Zero."

"A pilot, a junior engineer, a former Borg drone that had been out of the service for decades, a civilian holo-programmer, and a holographic soldier. That's quite the diplomatic envoy."

"I am not an authority on diplomacy," Ajax replied. "I reported as ordered."

"Orders that were given by the defendant, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you're unaware of any unusual circumstances that would account for such a strange order?"

He was not unaware, of course. But Ajax was governed not so much by personal ethics as an ethical subroutine. It was one thing for him to rise above his original programming in combat. It was quite another to base his legal testimony on anything other than the official Starfleet record. "I cannot account for Admiral Janeway's decisions," he said.

"Permission to treat the witness as hostile," Mindek asked the court.

"On what basis?" Captain Elglen asked. "It's answering all your questions, Commander, it's just not telling you what you wanted to hear."

"Agreed," Lancaster reluctantly concluded. "Move on, Mister Mindek."

She hated to lose an argument, but she knew better than to force this issue. "Very well. Sergeant, what were you doing when Lieutenant Narb-Uzek placed you into custody last night?"

"I was attempting to gain control of a shuttlecraft."

"On whose authority?"

"Admiral Janeway's."

"I see." She smiled slightly, hoping to recover here. "Now why would Admiral Janeway order you to get her a shuttlecraft?"

"She said there was a mutiny in progress against her," Ajax explained.

"And was there?"

Ajax furrowed his brow. He _knew_ the mutiny was a lie. Narb-Uzek had assured him of this, and Janeway's actions had aroused enough suspicion to make him question her version of events. But for all that Ajax had learned to question his superiors, he was not a man first and an officer second. He was a tool, a weapon, created to serve Starfleet in all things. And according to Starfleet--according to his program--all he knew about the alleged mutiny was what he had personally witnessed. "I don't know," he said. It wasn't the truth, but it was the best technical approximation he could give.

Mindek concealed her frustration with Benzite precision, and admitted defeat. "No further questions."

Lancaster looked to the defendant. "Admiral, do you wish to cross-examine the witness?"

But Janeway looked perfectly satisfied with Ajax's testimony as it stood. "No, your honor," she smirked. "I think that'll do."


	17. Chapter 17

Mindek was on the ropes, but not out. "I call Captain Daniel Lancaster to the stand."

"Objection," Janeway groaned. "Mister Lancaster is on thin enough ice serving as president of this court."

"Nevertheless," Mindek said, "he is a material witness to this case."

"Which is exactly the sort of conflict of interest that should have prevented this case from going to trial." Janeway might have been arguing with Mindek, but she was looking directly at Lancaster.

"Objection overruled," Lancaster decided. "This difficulty was addressed at the start of the hearing. You're within your rights to seek a mistrial, Admiral, but you will have to do so on appeal."

Janeway wouldn't back down. "Unless you decide to be the judge, the witness, _and_ the defendant before this is over."

Rather than dignify the remark with a response, Lancaster simply rang the judge's bell to call for order. "Captain Elglen will preside over this court until my testimony is completed," he announced before he took the witness stand. "Proceed, Mr. Mindek."

"Captain," she began, "describe in your own words the events leading to last night's red alert."

"I had just called Admiral Janeway to engineering, to consult with her about the cargo she had ordered me to transport into Borg space. On the way back to her quarters, I confronted her with information I had reviewed regarding Lieutenant Commander Kreighen."

"I enter into evidence Exhibit 'C,'" Mindek interrupted. "A report compiled by myself, at the request of Captain Lancaster, regarding the Kreighen matter. What was it about the report that moved you to take it up with the defendant?"

"Commander Kreighen was at Station D-19 when the Borg overran System 7723, but records indicate that he fled the battlefield in a shuttlecraft, the _Hrunting_. He was later commended for capturing a Borg cube and recovering survivors from the 7th Fleet. Nevertheless, his desertion ought to have led to at least an inquiry, if only as a formality. Instead, Admiral Janeway herself assigned Kreighen, the shuttle, and his cohorts to Unimatrix Zero."

"She's an admiral, you're a captain," Mindek observed. "Why are her command decisions subject to your approval?"

"I have served in Starfleet for 29 years," Lancaster responded. "I respect the chain of command. However, there must be accountability at every link of that chain. Admiral Janeway cannot be held accountable by her superiors unless she chooses to contact them. That autonomy represents a tremendous responsibility, which was only granted to her because the Federation Council placed its faith in one of its most decorated flag officers. The Kreighen matter, in tandem with our present mission, have led me to believe that faith is misplaced."

"When you brought these concerns to the defendant, how did she respond?"

"She told me, in no uncertain terms, that she was intent on winning the war, and that she would not be stopped by myself, Mister Kreighen, or, quote, any panicking bureaucrats on Earth, unquote." His disgust with that last phrase was visible, and he glared directly at Janeway as he repeated it. "When I indicated this would not do, she had herself beamed out of the turbolift."

"Captain," Mindek continued, "is it your assertion that Admiral Janeway is unfit to command the invasion of the Borg Collective?"

"I have neither the authority nor the qualifications to make that determination," he admitted. "However, it is my duty as a starship captain to ensure those who _can_ judge the admiral are given the opportunity to do so. If I could have lodged a complaint with Starfleet Command, I would have. That I cannot, by order of the defendant, is the essence of this matter."

"Thank you, sir. Nothing further."

Mindek wasn't even back in her seat before Janeway sprung into action. "Mister Lancaster, I hope you'll answer at least a few of my questions without finding me in contempt."

He took offense to her insinuation, but refused to show it. "My authority over this court is suspended until your cross-examination is concluded, Admiral."

"I'm delighted. You mentioned that I ordered you on a mission. Care to explain what those orders were?"

"You instructed me to escort you to Borg Spatial Grid 317."

"Was that all?"

Lancaster grimaced. "Since Commander Mindek is not cleared to hear the answer to that question, I presume you don't actually expect an answer."

Janeway turned and smirked to the prosecutor. "Sorry, Commander, I tried to get it out of him. Unless you'd like to have him arrested too."

"I..." Lancaster caught himself before he nearly held court from the witness stand. "I _suggest_ you direct your comments toward myself, Admiral."

"Very well," she said. "Captain, assuming I'm found guilty, what will you do?"

"I intend to abort our current mission and return to the nearest outpost, where this matter will be referred to a more appropriate forum."

"In other words, you will ignore my orders and override my authority over this ship."

"Essentially."

"Well now, that gives you quite the incentive to make sure I lose, doesn't it?"

"Objection!" Mindek shouted.

But Captain Elglen was reluctant to step in. "Watch your step, Admiral."

Lancaster had no problem with the question. "I consider it a stronger disincentive to allow you to go unchallenged altogether."

"Starfleet has procedures for the kind of 'challenge' you're talking about. This isn't covered by them."

"I'm taking up the matter as best I can under the circumstances..."

"You should have taken up the matter with me."

Lancaster began to raise his voice. "Admiral, when I tried that, you put eleven of my officers in sickbay with phaser burns!"

"Because you couldn't wait until after the mission!"

"Objection!" Mindek repeated, in vain.

"For all I know," Lancaster snarled, "Kreighen was waiting until after his mission, and all that's left of his crew is that hologram! I am responsible for the lives of four hundred eighteen officers, and I will not lead them to their destruction purely at your whim!"

"Risk is our business, Mister Lancaster," Janeway snapped. "If you can't handle a little danger, you should have resigned your commission the day the Borg attacked Bolarus, because anyone who deserves to wear that uniform knew the risks they'd be asked to make."

"For whom?" he challenged her. "For the Federation? Or for you?"

"Danny..." Elglen muttered, trying to regain control. But it was too late.

"This isn't fifteen years ago, Admiral! This is not _Voyager_ and I am not Chakotay! Your recklessness served you well then, but I will not see this organization be run like a Maquis terrorist cell!"

Elglen struck the judge's bell half a dozen times. "That's enough! Both of you! Admiral, with all due respect, ask the witness a question or stand down."

Janeway didn't like that--she had a hell of a comeback on the tip of her tongue. But she found the will to pull back, and merely glared at Lancaster as she stepped away from him. "I'm finished," she spat.

Elglen watched as Janeway and Lancaster continued to stare holes in one another. His next decision was easy. "Then I believe a one-hour recess is in order."


	18. Chapter 18

"There it is." Tirava showed Saa a growing blip on the monitor. "Tactical Cube 34489, right on schedule. Are you ready?"

The girl's eyes widened when she saw the sensor readouts on the Borg vessel. "It's...bigger than I expected."

"It's carrying some very precious cargo." Tirava patted her shoulder. "It scares me too."

Saa blinked. "I didn't think you were scared of anything..."

"I'm terrified of the Borg," the Andorian explained. "But if I let them see that, they would use it against me. So I use my fear against them first." She punched the final commands into the transporter and led Saa into the center of their scout ship.

They were enveloped in a green light, and then found themselves deep within the cube. Borg drones lurched through the dim corridors, oblivious to their presence. The Collective was concerned with assimilating entire cultures, not two individuals foolish enough to board one of its spacecraft.

Tirava's antenna twitched nervously as she tried to "listen" to the Borg's neural transmissions. The remnants of their cyber-surgical handiwork were still embedded in her brain, and on occasion the hive had used that to their advantage. This time, though, it seemed Saa's unusual mental abilities would shield her enough to complete the raid. She gave her young cohort the all-clear sign and they began their journey into the heart of the cube.

"Why don't they stop us?" Saa whispered. She was still new to all this, and instinctively avoided attention.

"They only see what matters to them," Tirava told her, with more confidence in her voice. "As far as they're concerned, we're alley rats that have blundered in, and will blunder back out in a few minutes."

"But what if we had some secret weapon?"

"They think they could resist it a soon as we tried to use it. That's how overconfident they are." Tirava gestured to a large, glowing structure in the next chamber. "We'll set up the pattern enhancers there."

Saa unzipped her bag and began to prep the devices. "Are you sure? This doesn't look anything like the mineral processing unit you showed me in your memory."

"Trust me." They weaved through a throng of drones, and then climbed over a railing down to a lower level. Whenever a force field impeded them, Tirava attached a device to the entryway that projected enough false readings for them to slip through. As they finally arrived at the mysterious structure, Tirava revealed her plans.

"These pattern enhances will only let us beam a few hundred kilos of ore off the ship," she said as she planted them around the chamber. "I don't think that's enough to make the Xhiryptyr'x take you seriously. So we're taking all of it."

"How will beaming this component into empty space help us move all that rock?"

Tirava smiled, pleased that her pupil had deduced that much of the plan. "It's called a vinculum. It keeps the drones on this ship interconnected, so they all think the same things. It's designed to withstand any attempt to destroy or deactivate it, but the Borg aren't expecting us to remove it."

"Then the drones will all be free," Saa realized.

"Confused is more like it. They'll still be Borg enough to try to stop us, but without a drumbeat to march to they won't put up much of a fight." Tirava activated the last of the enhancers and triggered a faint halo of energy encircling the vinculum. She reached into her satchel for a tricorder--or the Zeroes' approximation of one, at least--and started signalling the scout ship to begin transport.

Saa was by now feeling much bolder about her first mission. "I should be the one to handle the ore," she decided. "It would be disingenuous to take credit if I let you do it."

"Fine with me," Tirava replied, with a hint of frustration in her voice. She repeated the command codes several times, to no avail. "Something's wrong. The pattern enhancers aren't cutting through the Borg EM fields."

"What does that mean?"

"It means Korok's intelligence on this cube wasn't as good as we thought. Saa, I need another scrambler module--see if you can get the one we used on the last force field."

The girl quickly ran back to do as she was told, but stopped suddenly with a loud gasp. Tirava looked up from her work to see three Borg moving in from the way they came, blocking the entryway. She instantly assessed other routes of escape, and her heart sank as she saw more drones approaching in every direction.

"What do we do?" Saa shouted, sounding every bit like the frightened child she was.

Tirava had no real answer, beyond rushing to her side. If they were to die here, the Andorian swore she would protect her protege with her last breath. The Borg continued to advance on them, until they formed an unbreakable circle surrounding the two women.

But there was a third woman as well--at least, that was what Tirava could see. She was pale and grim, and adorned with black exo-plating, just as she'd been the last time Tirava had envisioned her.

"Perhaps now," the Queen spoke, "you will be more willing to listen."


	19. Chapter 19

There was no use trying to fight their way out, so Tirava didn't try. But her body was tensed, ready to leap at the first chance for escape that presented itself. Saa simply stared at the warrior, eager to follow her lead for lack of any better alternatives.

The Borg Queen--the embodiment of the Collective's aggregate consciousness--was not on the cube. But she might as well have been, from Tirava's point of view. Her existence essentially stretched through the neural transmissions of every past and present Borg drone in the universe. She had been made repeated efforts to contact Tirava recently. Now she had a captive audience.

"Are you so surprised to see me?" the Queen asked.

"I thought...I thought something was blocking you," Tirava replied. She decided it was best not to mention Saa's role in that.

"Yes, you did. We adapted. Resistance is futile." She circled around the girl, examining her. "I see you brought me a gift."

"I'll destroy this ship before I let you harm her."

"Your apprehension is as irrelevant as the child," the Queen continued. "I wanted you to investigate the Xhiryptyr'x, not deliver one to me. They are unworthy of the perfection to which we aspire."

"Then stand aside," Tirava grumbled, "and we'll be on our way."

This conversation was starting to perplex Saa. "Who are you talking to?"

The Queen smiled. "She is small, like her species. You have wasted enough of your existence coddling her. From this moment forward you will service us."

The mere thought of that made Tirava shudder, but she wouldn't yield. "When Starfleet freed me from the Collective, they put a lot of work into making sure you wouldn't assimilate me right back."

"We will adapt," the Queen reiterated. "In the interim, you will comply. Or you will be punished, and then you will comply."

A clamor arose as the Borg drones surrounding them shuddered closer. Tirava glanced at Saa. "When I give the word, do whatever it takes to get off this ship. Do you understand?"

But the Xhiryptyr'x was by now fixated on the sight of Tirava talking to...something. "It's like there's a woman standing next to you. But I can't see or hear her..."

"Saa, did you hear what I said?"

Now the girl had the Queen's attention. She cocked her head and approached Saa, as though recognizing some slight glimmer of potential. "A unique mutation," she decided. "A slight evolutionary advantage among a race of vestigial creatures. But she still thinks in small, three-dimensional terms."

Saa said nothing; she merely stared back at the Queen, or rather through the space where she could not see the Queen. Tirava was urging her to listen, to save herself. But only three of the Andorian's words had resonated with her: "whatever it takes."

Whatever it takes.

Whatever it takes.

Whatever

it

t

a

 

k

 

e

 

 

s

Saa reached out, and placed her hand on the Queen's cheek.

This should not have been possible. The drones, knowing that, could surmise no appropriate response. The Queen herself froze, as astonished as Saa by what had just happened. The only being in the sector who wasn't caught off guard was the one who trusted her instincts, and always kept herself primed for personal combat.

Tirava rushed up to grab the Queen in a headlock, and threw her to the ground.

It didn't matter how it happened, or why. All that mattered to Tirava, at this moment, was the almighty Borg had become something small enough, and tangible enough, for her to throttle with her bare hands. In the space of ten seconds, she unleashed all of her rage, her hate, her prejudice, her frustration, her fear. The Queen's pallid skin bruised. Her grayish blood spilled. What bone there was in her skull cracked.

During that brief time, it was as though the entire Borg Collective was screaming in the Queen's agony. The drones in Tactical Cube 34489 didn't move or utter a sound, but the ship was swallowed up in the commotion of ten thousand alerts and alarms. Each Borg vessel was designed for constant maintenance by a phalanx of drones; leaving even a single key operation unattended for this long was catastrophic.

Saa watched all of this, in awe of what had happened and of how it had been her doing. Impossible as it seemed, she had perceived the Queen beyond normal spatial awareness. It was as if the mere _thought_ of Tirava speaking to some ethereal presence had brought that presence through that ether. The rest, though, was beyond her ken--she knew little about the Borg, or why their entire ship had been thrown into chaos. She could only guess that she and Tirava were in even greater danger than before.

The young woman stared into the distance and let her imagination wander--that had, after all, proven to be a little useful. If she was right--if she had drawn the Queen through the realm of thought to this place--then perhaps she could similarly save herself and Tirava. Saa surveyed the chamber, and found the Borg insensate and Tirava half-crazed by revenge. Whatever incredible power she now had, it appeared to be her only hope.

Saa closed her eyes...concentrated on her concentration...and _wished_ re it is." Tirava showed Saa a growing blip on the monitor. "Tactical Cube 34489, right on schedule. Are you ready?"

The girl's eyes widened when she saw the sensor readouts on the Borg vessel. "Are we still alive?"

Tirava shivered, and at once realized what had just happened. "Did we just--?" She looked down at her hands and saw blood on her knuckles. The Borg Queen's blood.

"I think so," Saa answered, though it sounded more like a question.


	20. Chapter 20

Tirava checked the sensor logs,the flight plan, the ship's chronometers, everything. She and Saa were exactly where--and _when_ \--they would have been if their raid of the Borg cube hadn't even begun. And yet, they remembered beaming aboard, confronting the Queen...

She realized the drones on Tactical Cube 34489 might remember too, and would be more interested in their ship than the first time around. Tirava hastily came about, and set a course for the nearest nebula that might conceal their presence. That would protect them long enough to figure out what in the universe had happened.

She realized she was drenched in sweat. An Andorian warrior, sweating! But then again, not many Andorians got their hands around the Borg Queen's throat. Tirava only now noticed her heart was still racing, her bloodlust coursing through her, her thirst for revenge sated momentarily. Had she always wanted to that so badly? It certainly felt good while it lasted. She hoped it was enough retribution to satisfy all the other victims of the Borg who never had the chance.

But had _she_ really had the chance? It might have all been a hallucination. Their scout ship's instruments couldn't prove or disprove that. But the sensors did read one crucial piece of evidence. The mass of their ship had increased, inexplicably, by eight hundred kilograms. They went to the cargo hold to search for the extra weight, but Tirava could already guess what it was.

"Boronite," she gasped as they examined the piles of ore. The quantum dating on her scanner wasn't precise enough to get a clear reading, but it was at least possible the nuclei in the boronite were about an hour older than those of the ship. "It's as if we completed the mission without even starting it."

"That's what I wanted," Saa said. "All I could think was that I wanted off that ship, to have never been there, to have what we came for."

"Then we _were_ there," Tirava reasoned. "Right?"

Saa mulled over the question. "We _were_ there when we were there. But now we weren't."

"And you think you did this?"

"I...I felt you talking to that woman," the girl explained, "and I tried as hard as I could to see her. I heard her mocking me...saying I thought in three dimensions. I wondered what she meant. Who thinks in four or five dimensions, anyway? But then I started to imagine that and then..."

"Uzaveh..." Tirava leaned against the bulkhead and let out a sigh. "Can all of your people do this? Is that why Unimatrix Zero operated on their brains?"

"I don't think so," Saa decided. "We have mind powers--the elders tell us we developed them when we were transformed from Kazon. But nothing like this...not before today..." She looked up at her mentor with a sudden concern. "Do you fear me now, Tirava?"

"Fear you?"

"What I've become," she clarified. "They say when the Kazon-Jeptruux became the Xhiryptyr'x, we were shunned and scorned by the other sects. They were frightened of our powers. I think if this happened to you, I would know how they felt."

Tirava was...concerned, but by no means afraid of her friend. She reached out and took Saa's hand. "My society...the Federation...was built by people who overcame that kind of fear. When we meet people who aren't like us, we try to befriend them, so we can help one another."

"But what if they don't want to help you? What if they take advantage of your kindness?"

Reflexively, Tirava responded to that notion by running her finger along the scar on her face, left over from her experience with the Borg. "We...we try to avoid that. Sometimes we can't. That's why I'm in this region of the galaxy, actually. My crewmates wanted to meet the Borg, but they...we...didn't know they only wanted to turn us into Borg."

"Don't you wish you hadn't met them?"

"I..." Tirava flinched, trying so hard not to let her warrior image crack. "Sometimes. Most of the time. But...if it hadn't have happened, I never would have had the chance to meet you."

That made Saa smile, though it also gave her pause. "Until you said that, I was wondering if I could will us to safety, as if the war never happened. Then my people would be free, but you would be back with your Federations. I think...I think it's too dangerous to use the power that way. It's like I'm learning to understand how to use it as it develops."

Tirava led her back to the helm of the scout ship. "You know, you wouldn't have to turn back time to save your people. You'd just have to turn the situation to your advantage."

"How?"

"My plan had been to steal the Borg's vinculum," Tirava explained, "and let you use it to broadcast a high-powered distress signal to the Xhiryptyr'x. Maybe now we don't any technology to do that."

"Do you think I can do that?"

The Andorian shrugged. "I don't see any reason to assume you can't do anything, Saa. If you can locate enough ships, I can show them how to organize a raid on Intercomplex 934."

That was as much as Tirava dared to propose. What she secretly hoped was too much to dangle in front of the girl. But if the Saa's newfound power was genetic--if all of the Xhiryptyr'x carried the potential for similar abilities--then an army of them might be unstoppable. They would demand a reckoning with Unimatrix Zero, of course. But after that, it might be possible to persuade them to rid the galaxy of the real threat.

That was all pure speculation, of course. So as Saa sat down to prepare her mind for the task at hand, Tirava said nothing. She just quietly hoped that the Xhiryptyr'x could somehow defeat the Borg...


	21. Chapter 21

A sustained conflict between the Xhiryptyr'x and the Borg would spell disaster for everyone. Kreighen couldn't get his mind off that thought as he piloted his shuttle into enemy territory. Until he located the _Stormwind_ , he was helpless to do anything about it.

As far as the Collective knew, it had only engaged the Xhiryptyr'x that had been lobotomized as Unimatrix Zero conscripts. In fact, it had battled free Xhiryptyr'x starships as well, but the Borg had so little data on these crushing defeats that it could not identify those forces as the same culture. If the Borg ever discovered that they could adapt to resist "Species 10538" by assimilating the Zeroes' slave labor, they'd be unstoppable.

It was up to Kreighen to use that knowledge to stop the ongoing war from expanding across all of reality. The pressure of that was wearing on him. He'd barely eaten for hours, and he hadn't slept in over a day. The beard he had grown while stranded on an alien moon was starting to itch. Now that he was back in the _Hrunting_ , barreling through space at high warp, he had the time to rest. But he couldn't tear himself from the helm, as if the shuttle might never arrive if he wasn't at his post.

He could tell how tired he was when his console beeped and he nearly fell out of his chair. _Just hang in there a little longer_ , he told himself, _you can make it_. He rubbed his eyes and checked the long-rage sensors, expecting to find an Allied starship in pursuit.

Instead he found what he'd really been looking for...and trouble he'd hoped to avoid. Kreighen plotted a new course, and summoned his crew with a general communication. "Wake up, everybody," he muttered, "and get in here." Somehow, the formality of "all hands to battlestations" seemed unnecessary.

Ijhel quickly arrived from the aft section, but Jimenez and Vystir took another minute or two to find their way down from the cargo hold. That was no surprise. Kreighen hadn't spared a moment to check in on either of them, but he could connect the dots. The relationship between his comrade and their peculiar passenger would have to wait.

Nevetheless, Vystir presented an immediate dilemma. Whatever her allegiances might be, her sympathies with the Borg were a clear risk to his mission. He couldn't afford to let her know what he was really up to, which would make it difficult to confide in Jimenez as well.

Once he had everyone's attention, he told them what he could. "This is what we've been headed for," he said, pointing to his star chart. This tetryon wake abruptly starts on the Allied side of the front, and makes a straight shot into Borg territory. Anybody want to guess where that course would take it?"

Jimenez wasn't half the navigator his commander was, but there weren't many scenic landmarks in this region of space to choose from. "Intercomplex 934?" he surmised.

"Bingo."

But the engineer was more interested in the size and composition of the tetryon field. "They'd have to be running at low warp to leave a trail this wide," Jimenez said. "And cloaked. So it'd have to be an Alliance ship carrying some volatile stuff."

"It's a secret Starfleet operation," Kreighen clarified.

Vystir sensed Jimenez's confusion, and voiced it. "How do you know that, Ja--I mean, Commander, sir? Nathan tells me you've all been out of contact with Starfleet for months."

Ijhel was willing to cover for him, as best she could. "I'm afraid the answer to that might be...sensitive, Ensign. I think you'll find working with Commander Kreighen a trifle enigmatic, but we've learned to trust his judgement."

"Yeah," Kreighen replied, wishing he could get past this topic as soon as possible. "I can't get into the details right now. What matters to us is that Ajax is on that ship."

"He..." Ijhel was taken aback by that name. "He is? How could you possibly know that? Is he--?"

He smiled gently as he dismissed the questions. "I told you, now's not the time. I've changed course to follow the ship--we'll be in Borg space within the hour. Here's the problem."

Kreighen tapped on his console until the star chart reconfigured to show the same sector from another angle. The tetryon trail was still clearly marked--as much of it as sensors could detect--as was _Hrunting_ 's position. But now a new blip was in view.

"It's a Borg cube," he explained. "Its course should cross the path our trail just under three hours from now. Our best speed puts us there in a little over two."

"Sounds like a close call," Jimenez said.

"Closer than you think," Vystir argued. "Commander, do we know this cloaked vessel has reached or passed that point?"

Kreighen shook his head. "Sensors can't see that far yet. But if I know the Borg, they're on an intercept course. My guess is that ship is dead in the water. Either the crew can't move, or they don't know that they need to."

He had to be careful to couch all of this in terms of speculation. The truth was he knew exactly what had happened, thanks to the Q. The _Stormwind_ 's situation was even worse than he let on--the crew didn't know the Borg were coming _and_ they were helpless to do anything about it.

"So what do we do?" Jimenez wondered. "If you're right, it shouldn't be hard to pick up Ajax. But I can tell just from the warp trail that this ship's at least a heavy cruiser. There won't be time for us to evacuate the entire crew."

Kreighen tried his best to reassure him. "One thing at a time, Nathan. Right now all we can do is get this ship back into fighting shape." He stroked his jaw in thought, and the feeling of his beard reminded him of his exhaustion. "And for my part, I think that means ordering myself to take a nap."


	22. Chapter 22

> Captain's log, supplemental.
> 
> The trial of Admiral Janeway is in recess, following my rather emotional outburst on the witness stand. I cannot blame Captain Elglen for that decision; it seems this messy business has put me on edge.
> 
> I had expected that the admiral's behavior would be her downfall--that Elglen would see her for what she truly is and side with me. But it would seem there are two trials going on: My trial of Janeway for misconduct and contempt, and her trial of myself for insubordination. I fear her trial is proceeding far better than mine.
> 
> My every instinct is to act, to vindicate my suspicions for the good of Starfleet and my ship. But I seem to have boxed myself in. Having appointed myself as the accuser, judge, and eyewitness against Janeway, I can scarcely serve also as an investigator.

Lancaster's log was interrupted by Elglen visiting his quarters. "How are you holding up, Danny?" the Bolian asked.

"Well enough, I suppose," came the reply as the _Stormwind_ 's captain shut down his computer station. "What brings you here?"

"It seemed like a conflict of interest to hang around with anyone else." Elglen began looking around his old friend's quarters, until he found something familiar. "Well, I'll be a Teneebian skunk. You actually kept this old thing?"

"What old thing?" Lancaster wondered, until he looked over to find Elglen examining a beaded headdress. "Ah. The first contact ceremony with the Evora."

"Even the regent didn't expect us to wear those things all night," Elglen teased him. "But you insisted on following protocol to the letter. Every time we danced I had to fight not to crack up..."

"As _I_ recall, you found it rather dashing on me."

"I was trying to be nice and cover for you."

"Well then," Lancaster huffed, "is that what you're doing now, as well?"

The last thing Elglen wanted to do was offend him, so he tried to lighten the mood. "If this thing's any indication, I'd be wasting my time. But you have to admit, things aren't going like you hoped."

"Does that mean you agree with Janeway?"

"Look...she's got you, Danny. A hundred captains couldn't compel an admiral to reveal classified mission details. And Mindek can't prove Janeway did anything wrong if none of us know what she was doing it for."

"You're not answering the question I asked," Lancaster pointed out.

Elglen shook his head. "I don't know...maybe I just want you to convince me..."

"Why? What's troubling you?"

"Nnnh...something the admiral said when she was cross-examining Narb-Uzek. Remember that hypothetical situation she raised, about Starfleet Command leaving a token force to defend Bajor from the Dominion?"

"Not so hypothetical, I think," Lancaster observed. Nothing more needed to be said. They had both served in the Battle of Torros III, while the Dominion had been distracted with defeating Captain Sisko at Deep Space Nine.

"Exactly," Elglen said. "I don't think she came up with that analogy just to remind us that Sisko did his duty and kept a stiff upper lip. Danny, what if _you're_ Sisko this time?"

Lancaster considered it, but it didn't add up. "Starfleet had the decency to tell Sisko what they were doing."

"But he couldn't have told his staff--not even his first officer."

That detail was troubling. Lancaster had only been in command for a day or two, due to the death of Captain Sarkova. And Janeway had made it clear when she arrived that it was with Sarkova that she'd planned the mission. "Still...what's the Torros shipyard in this situation? The Alliance couldn't be planning an offensive big enough to justify risking Janeway's life on a diversion..."

"I don't know," Elglen replied. "If I'm right, the feint would be deadlier than the trompement. We're carrying the components for an omega particle weapon, for heaven's sake! But it doesn't have to be a _smart_ gamble, Danny. What matters is whether she'd take the chance."

"The omega particle," Lancaster muttered as he considered this. It was the most powerful force known to Federation science; so dangerous that he wasn't cleared to know about it until five minutes after he made captain. And one of the first things he learned in his briefing was that the Borg Collective affixed an almost religious importance to the stuff. "Is omega more valuable as a weapon...or as a lure?"

Elglen clearly hadn't thought of that. "What do you think she's up to?"

"Nothing we'll find terribly pleasant, I believe." Lancaster tapped his comm-badge. "Lancaster to engineering."

The chief engineer responded with all of his usual charm. "What the hell do you want, Captain?"

"Eudon, I want you to run a level 2 scan on Cargo Bay 3."

He heard laughter on the other end of the line. "That's what I wanted to do yesterday, you idiot! That's why Janeway already told us what's in there!"

The easiest way to deal with the Zaldan was to engage him at his own level. But Lancaster was done losing his composure. "Have a care, Mister Eudon. You will do your duty and confirm that the admiral accurately reported the ship's manifest. Then I will join you at Cargo Bay 3 and you will give me your report. Is that clear?"

"Whatever," Eudon snorted, coming as close as he would to a "yes, sir."

"I don't see what that gets us," Elglen said after Eudon closed the channel. "If Janeway's setting a trap for the Borg, then we know what the bait is."

Lancaster grabbed his uniform jacket and prepared to head out. "I fear that our cargo is only meant to sweeten the scent," he explained. "And if I'm right, _we're_ the bait."


	23. Chapter 23

"Sgt. Ajax, reporting for duty." Ajax was surprised to find Captain Lancaster had reactivated in the _Stormwind_ 's sickbay, of all places. "Sir, if I'm needed for a medical emergency, I should be reconfigured for--"

"That's not why I've summoned you," the captain explained. "I just want you to see the analysis Doctor Ben-Aharon is running.

Ajax turned around and discovered the ship's chief medical officer drawing blood from Captain Elglen. "Hi!" she said to him, warmly. "So you're the medical hologram they turned into a soldier?"

"Something like that," he answered.

Elglen became concerned by the doctor's distraction while she had her tissue extractor pressed against him. "Uh, you want to finish this up, Doc?"

"Sure," she said, as if this might convince him that she was paying attention to anything but Ajax. "Which texts are in your database? I mean, obviously Schweitzer and McCoy, but maybe April? Pulaski? Quaice?"

Ajax started to respond, but Lancaster saved him with a mildly irritated sigh. "What have you found, Rachel?"

She glanced down and saw she'd filled her sample tube to capacity with Elglen's blood. "What have I found? What have I found?" she mumbled, stalling while she recalled the answer. "Well, it will take a few minutes to process the captain's sample, but yours is showing an elevated white count. similinhibitizine levels are falling and your nanodefense systems can't compensate."

Ajax's source code was based upon the medical hologram that pioneered this science, so he got the general idea. "Are you saying Captain Lancaster's anti-assimilation treatments are wearing off?"

"Not wearing off, exactly," Ben-Aharon clarified. "I'd say it's more like the nanodefenses are gradually losing the ability to protect themselves from the natural immune system. I can't tell yet if the progression is geometric or...or...what's the word...?"

"It's wearing off," Elglen interrupted. "This ship gets stranded inside Borg space, pretending to carry cargo the Borg would love to get, and now people just happen to be losing their resistance to the Borg's most dangerous weapon."

Ajax realized he missed a step. "'Pretending' to carry?"

"Admiral Janeway told us we were transporting boronite and other rare substances to Intercomplex 934," Lancaster said. "A scan just proved that was a lie. So I am left to sort out this puzzle with only our destination as a clue--a destination you happen to be familiar with."

"Sir," Ajax stammered, "I don't know what the admiral is planning. I haven't even been in contact with the Zeroes on that station in months. Perhaps the cargo is some other form of supplies which--"

Lancaster held up his hand. "Enough. This was never a supply mission; it was, and remains, a disinformation campaign."

"Exponential!" Ben-Aharon suddenly interrupted. "Wait, how do you plant disinformation in the Borg hive mind?"

"It's rather brilliant, in a sinister way," Lancaster continued. "During Earth's second world war, my countrymen planted false documents on the body of a dead man and left the corpse at sea where it would wash up and be discovered by the enemy. They called it Operation Mincemeat. Of course, to fool the Borg, the mincemeat in question would have to be very much alive..."

Elglen pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to fathom the ramifications of it all. "We came out here to _avenge_ the Borg's victims, not to create more. Doctor, is there anything you can do?"

"Let's see...I _should_ be able to suppress the autoimmune response, but that will only--"

"Do what you can," Lancaster ordered. He had more pressing concerns than the details of her work. "Ajax, there is now more at stake here than anything your programming dictates about the chain of command and your legal obligations. I must regain control of this ship or four hundred people will suffer a fate worse than death."

"What do you expect me to do?" the hologram argued. "It's not as if I can testify twice in the same trial."

Lancaster corrected him. "Not necessarily. You can be recalled to the stand to offer a rebuttal if your original testimony is contradicted by another party."

"Why bother?" Ajax asked. "Assuming you're right, Admiral Janeway's plan was to escape last night before the Borg could get here. Since that's no longer an option, she's bound to release control of the ship sooner or later."

"I wouldn't count on that," Elglen countered. "The admiral is a very stubborn woman who's used to getting what she wants. She'd rather die than let anyone call her bluff."

"So the trial will carry on to the bitter end," Lancaster vowed, "and its outcome may rest on what you choose to reveal, Sergeant. The only question is whether your testimony will reflect what you believe is right, or what you've been told to do."

Ajax could hardly look him in the eye. "Captain...with all due respect, you're appealing to me as a man that I'll never be. If I were shaped like a tricorder, you wouldn't be making this argument."

"And if I were a _Homo habilis_ , I'd be on earth eating termites right now." He grasped Ajax by the shoulders. "If Starfleet had wanted a holographic weapon, they wouldn't have commissioned you as a holographic soldier. Perhaps your Cardassian programmer can't appreciate the distinction. But humans don't create things in their own image lightly. Even our most ancient myths present us as simulacra of our gods, who in turn are helpless to prevent us from choosing our own paths, our own identities. So I am certain the capacity for truly free will is there, Mister Ajax. Let that define your service to humanity, and you will serve us far better than by following our instructions."

He was interrupted by Mindek over the comm-link. "Captain Lancaster, Captain Elglen. Please report to the mess hall."

"Come on, Danny," Elglen said. "We'd look pretty foolish if we ran late for holding our own court."

Lancaster nodded and followed his old friend out of sickbay...but not before giving Ajax one last, meaningful look. Not for the first time, Ajax missed the days when he was never asked to do anything more difficult than to kill the Borg.


	24. Chapter 24

Once Lancaster and Elglen resumed the mess hall, court was back in session. "Mister Mindek," Lancaster said, "do you have anything further to enter into evidence?"

"Not at this time, Your Honor. The prosecution rests."

"Very well." He addressed the defendant. "Admiral Janeway, you may call your first witness."

Janeway was considerably calmer than before the recess, but no less defiant. "There's only one witness of any relevance, gentlemen. I call myself to the stand."

"You might have considered that decision before electing to represent yourself," Lancaster responded dryly.

"Federation law grants me the right to represent myself," Janeway argued, "and to deliver a monologue in my own defense. If you have a problem with that, declare a mistrial."

Lancaster's concession was curt. "Take the stand, Admiral. But I warn you to limit yourself to the facts of this case."

"That won't be hard to do," she began, "because I'm the only one on this ship who has any facts about this case. But this case isn't about facts, or justice. This is about tricking the computer into suspending my authority. I have no expectation that I can be exonerated today. But since I have no choice but to participate, I may as well give my side of the story.

"I was one of the first Starfleet captains to explore this quadrant of space, and the first to cross it. I've seen the Borg empire from both sides--from the Nekrit Expanse to the B'omar perimeter grid. I spent four years with the Collective on my tail. At first I counted myself lucky just to survive each encounter. But then, as our escapes turned into small victories, and our victories accumulated into dominance. I went to the Unicomplex and bloodied the nose of the Borg Queen. I transformed Unimatrix Zero from a dreamland diversion to a galaxy-spanning threat to the entire hive. And oh, yes, I crippled the transwarp hub that the Borg once used to routinely invade the Federation.

"So when one lone ship managed to limp its way to Bolarus, and the rest of the Alpha Quadrant cowered in terror, I saw an empire in decline. I knew the Borg lacked the resources to send reinforcements. And I was no longer one captain with one ship. The Borg were in my backyard for a change.

"There were those who criticized my policy. They wanted to destroy the Bolian solar system, or wipe out every assimilated Bolian with a metagenic weapon. But I knew we couldn't limit our options to surrender or annihilation. I've seen first hand what defeatism has done to Species 116, or the Catati, or the Yridians. So I dismissed my critics--even when they were on the Federation Council, and I resisted the Borg at Bolarus. It could have cost me my career. But it was worth it to know that every Bolian refugee, and every Bolian rescued from assimilation, can go home."

Elglen interrupted. "This court is fully aware of your service to the Bolian people, Admiral. Move on."

"The point is," she continued, "the Collective would have conquered the Alpha Quadrant from Bolarus if I'd sought the approval of every single officer in the service. War is not a democratic process, it's an authoritarian one. And I'm the authority.

"Captain Lancaster suggested that he refuses to blindly serve under me the way Captain Chakotay supposedly did when he was my first officer on _Voyager_. To be honest, I thought that was very amusing. History tells all of you that he set aside his political views and supported my implicitly. The truth is, there were days when I thought Chakotay would try a stunt like this court martial. And in every one of those situations, where he and I were miles apart, there were two inevitable facts. First, our disputes threatened the lives under my command and the success of our mission. Second, he eventually realized I was right.

"That's a difficult lesson for any first officer to learn. It's one of the major qualifications that goes into promoting commanders to captains. Perhaps Mister Lancaster never grasped that point when he served under Captain Sarkova, and I was a tad hasty in promoting him as her replacement. But the circumstances demanded that we proceed with this mission, regardless of any reservations I might have about the men and women available to carry it out.

"That applies just as much to the Kreighen matter. Were Commander Kreighen and his crew the most qualified personnel for their mission? Probably not. But they were selected because they were the best people for the job, under the circumstances. Yes, Kreighen is no model officer. I could have brought him up on a dozen charges. But that would have been a waste of a...unique talent in Starfleet, so I bent the rules. So would any good commanding officer.

"Mister Lancaster would have the record show Kreighen as some sort of martyr, because that would establish a pattern he could follow in. But just because he doesn't know the details of Kreighen's mission does not give him the right to fabricate his own version of events and hang me with them. So even though he will almost certainly find me guilty, I want it made me clear that he'll be doing so with prejudice, and an ulterior motive bordering on mutiny."

With that, Janeway ignored the men judging her, and directly addressed Mindek. "Any questions?"


	25. Chapter 25

Lancaster ignored Janeway's slight, and proceeded with the trial. "Mister Mindek, do you wish to cross-examine?"

The answer was yes, and the Benzite stood to begin questioning. But before she could speak, the court martial was interrupted by the sound of the mess hall doors opening. The members of the court, prosecutor, defendant, and assembled security looked up to find Sergeant Ajax entering the room.

Ajax said nothing; he simply gave Lancaster a look that made his intentions clear. So the court made no call to order, no effort at all to stop the hologram from approaching Mindek and whispering to her.

Janeway rolled her eyes and then glanced over to the bench. "Can we get on with this, please?"

Lancaster indulged the request. "Mister Mindek?"

"Ready, Your Honor," she finally said as Ajax stepped away. She tried to hide her newfound confidence, but for a Benzite this was akin to Klingon disguising his wrath. "Admiral, I found your speech very moving, thank you."

"You're welcome," Janeway replied with equal sarcasm.

"I was particularly struck by your revelations about Commander Kreighen...that he is 'uniquely talented' for the mission for which you personally assigned him."

"If you were so awestruck," the admiral smiled, "you should have paid more attention. I said Kreighen was probably not the most qualified for the mission at the time. I also said he is a unique talent. Those are two unrelated thoughts."

Mindek briefly went through the motions of reviewing the transcript automatically recorded on her datapad. "Ah. Yes. I regret the error. Could you tell the court which officers were more qualified?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Permit me to clarify. Given your lofty position, it stands to reason that you must familiarize yourself with the skill sets of the command-level officers available for special assignments. So I presume you can name at least one person under your command who was better suited to the mission."

Janeway furrowed her brow. "I said he was 'probably' not the most qualified. It's not as if I researched it--"

"Why not?" Mindek countered. "When I post duty rosters of this ship or perform crew evaluations, I thoroughly consider the strengths and weaknesses of the people under my command, and position them according to the roles corresponding to their qualifications."

"The nature of Kreighen's mission is classified," Janeway argued. "Revealing the names of other candidates to lead the mission would be a clue as to its parameters. I'm afraid you don't have clearance for that."

"A fair enough point, which you have returned to repeatedly in this trial." Mindek backed off a bit, visually conceding the issue. "But that only addresses my first question. So let's return to the second. Why didn't you research the selection process that led you to choose Kreighen?"

"The matter is classified."

"No," Mindek pressed. "The _mission_ is classified. Your decision-making process is not! So for the sake of argument, let's suppose this secret mission is to inventory every self-sealing stembolt in the Allied fleet. You are at your desk, coffee mug in hand, reviewing the importance of this operation. So rather than poring through personnel reports for the ideal candidate, and rather than delegating the matter to a subordinate, you personally selected Commander Kreighen. A man who, by your own admission, was probably not the best choice. Is that your testimony, Admiral?"

Janeway stared her straight in the eye. "Objection, relevance."

"Overruled," Lancaster proclaimed. "You opened the door, Admiral."

"That doesn't mean it leads anywhere," she retorted.

"I believe that it does," Mindek continued. "You have spent much of this trial asserting that your position demands unwavering obedience; that this trial itself constitutes a dangerous interference with your ability to command. But you have also suggested your approach to that command is to arbitrarily hand a high-priority assignment to someone without even identifying the best candidates. If the quality of your service is to be your defense, Admiral, then it must be subject to scrutiny. So I ask again--why did you choose Kreighen for the mission without exploring other options?"

Janeway scowled, like a predator caught in a trap. "Because Kreighen had established contact with Unimatrix Zero. He was already familiar with them and most likely to be accepted as a liaison."

Mindek approached the witness stand, coming within half a meter of Janeway and leaning in toward her. "And that is the only reason you selected him for the assignment?"

" _Yes._ "

Mindek smiled broadly and withdrew to her desk. "Nothing further."

"You may call your next witness, Admiral," Lancaster invited.

Janeway forced herself to forget the indignity of Mindek's line of questioning, and bent her frustrated glower into a cavalier smirk. "What would be the point? There's nothing left for me to refute."

"Then you rest your case."

"I believe that's the general idea."

Lancaster rang the judge's bell. "Then _do so_ , Admiral, before this court loses its patience."

Janeway was more annoyed than intimidated. "I rest my case, Your Honor," she shrugged.

With that done, Mindek looked like the cat--or perhaps the catfish--that had swallowed the canary. "If it pleases the court, the prosecution requests that Sergeant Ajax be recalled to the stand as a rebuttal witness."


	26. Chapter 26

"Objection!" Janeway groaned. "Sergeant Ajax has already given his testimony."

Mindek was resolute. "I have reason to believe he can refute several points offered by the defense," she explained.

"The court will hear the witness," Lancaster ruled.

"This is outrageous," Janeway fumed. "A holographic witness testifies _twice_ so a couple of captains can convict an admiral..."

"Admiral," Elglen said in a measured, but firm tone. "You may voice your objections to the evidence presented by the witness. Be seated."

"Elglen," she muttered, shaking her head. "I expected this from the _Stormwind_ crew, but you? This is a profound disappointment..."

But her Bolian adjutant wasn't buying it. "Respectfully, Admiral, if you cannot find your seat, this court will direct security to show you to it. Commander Mindek, you may proceed."

"Thank you, Your Honor. Sergeant, earlier today I asked you if you knew of any reasons why the defendant selected Commander Kreighen and his crew for the Unimatrix Zero assignment. I presume your holomatrix retains a more precise recollection of your response than my own memory. Could you repeat it?"

"I said, 'I cannot account for Admiral Janeway's decisions,'" Ajax said, exactly as he had before.

"Very good, thank you," she replied.

Janeway simmered in her chair. "We've been _over_ this..."

"Yes we have," Mindek admitted. "And now the defendant has accounted for her own decisions. Mister Ajax, Admiral Janeway claims that she chose Kreighen for the mission solely on the basis of his familiarity with Unimatrix Zero. Would you agree with that statement?"

"I have no basis to agree or disagree with it," Ajax said. "The admiral did not discuss the matter with me."

Mindek nodded in understanding. "Yes, well, you wouldn't have been privy to the details. That would have been handled by Kreighen himself. Sergeant, how well do you know the commander?"

"As well as I know anyone, I suppose. I've spent most of my existence under his command."

"Did he ever tell you," she smiled, "whether _he_ thinks Janeway only chose him for his familiarity with Unimatrix Zero?"

"Hearsay!" Janeway interrupted. "Commander Kreighen's statements cannot be held against me if I cannot exercise the right to challenge him directly."

"Your Honor," Mindek said to Lancaster, "I'm only trying to establish an assertion was made, not the truth of it."

Ajax was leery of responding, and looked over to the bench. Lancaster looked back and instructed him, "The witness will answer the question."

"The commander," Ajax answered carefully, "indicated that he did not believe he received the assignment for that reason alone."

"I see," Mindek continued. "Then what did he indicate?"

"Objection..." the admiral seethed.

"Overruled," said Lancaster.

Ajax took as deep a breath as a hologram could. "Commander Kreighen suggested that the assignment was punitive. He claimed that Admiral Janeway sought to eliminate him, and any evidence of their dispute, by exiling him behind enemy lines under the pretense of aiding Unimatrix Zero's resistance movement."

Janeway lost her temper. "This farce has gone on long enough!" she snapped.

"Order!" Lancaster demanded.

Mindek carried on. "What dispute does he believe exists between himself and the defendant?"

"Not another word, Sergeant..." Janeway stabbed her index finger out toward him.

"He said that he had deliberately violated Starfleet regulations," Ajax answered, "so that upon his conviction, Admiral Janeway would be forced to re-establish contact the Alpha Quadrant to arrange for his incarceration."

"That is it," the admiral announced. "I have humored you all this far out of respect for the legal system, but apparently I am the only one who understands it. When you've regained your senses, you can find me on the bridge."

She began to storm off, but Lancaster motioned for the both of the security officers in the mess hall to stop her. Had she been a common criminal, the guards might have drawn their sidearms. But in spite of everything that had transpired, she was still Kathryn Janeway, the hero of the Delta Quadrant and the "Neutronium Lady" who inspired the Alpha Quadrant to resist the Borg. So when she continued into the doorway, the two officers left their weapons holstered, and limited themselves to restraining her by her arms. And that was why they were unprepared for what happened next.

Janeway was perhaps thirty centimeters from the door when it swished open. She and the security officers found themselves looking into the barrel of a phaser rifle. Janeway knew the man with his finger on the trigger, but not like this. He still wore a Starfleet uniform, but it was ragged, filthy, and stained in multiple colors of blood. His once neat hair was now shaggy and unkempt, to match the thin beard he had grown. He had lost weight, and untold hours of sleep if his face was any indication.

But his eyes were the same, with exactly the same defiant glare that she had seen when she ordered him to his certain death. She'd never expected to see him again--not alive, at least. Now, it seemed, he was here to make her regret that she'd ever seen him at all.

Jake Kreighen kept his weapon trained on the admiral, and looked as if he was debating whether to fire. When his cohorts had secured the mess hall, he finally spoke. "Do I have everybody's attention now?"


	27. Chapter 27

Kreighen stayed near the main entrance, letting the doors close behind him. Jimenez and Vystir moved in on each flank, until they had clears shots of everyone in the room. Ijhel had a hand phaser, but saw little use in brandishing it. Her main interest was in examining her creation.

"Are you all right?" she asked Ajax, like a scolding parent locating a wayward child.

"Of course I am," he responded. "Are _you?_ You look like hell."

"Your concern would be touching," she grumbled, "if it were matched by your tactlessness."

"Knock it off," Kreighen told them, before addressing the entire room. "I'm sorry we had to barge in like this. We aren't looking to hurt anyone, but I had to make sure we didn't get shot before I could be heard."

"I'm Captain Daniel Lancaster of the starship _Stormwind_." The captain rose slowly from his chair, trying not to provoke any hostility. "You must be Commander Kreighen."

Janeway, for her part, was more interested with the rifle aimed at her heart. "Someone--anyone! Call security before someone gets hurt."

"You've chosen an interesting moment to become concerned with that," Lancaster told her. "Commander, I believe you know Admiral Janeway. We've been conducting a court martial to resolve several allegations about her activities. In your absence you have played a crucial role in this hearing. If you wish to be heard, I can think of no more receptive audience."

Janeway didn't like the sound of that, but there was little she could do about it. Anything she might say to impeach Kreighen as a witness would cast doubt on her account of ordering him to work with Unimatrix Zero. She could only stand there, helplessly, as Kreighen approached the witness stand.

"You understand," he told Lancaster, "that I can't trust you not to call security."

"I do. Your people don't need their weapons, but they may keep them while you speak. However, this court cannot reach a verdict at gunpoint."

"But you can after I leave," Kreighen decided. "With the hologram."

"Agreed."

Kreighen stood beside the witness stand, his rifle lowered but still ready to fire. "First of all, you people need to know that we detected a Borg cube headed this way. We believe it will find you from the same tertyron trail that led us here. Cloaking device or not, I wouldn't stay in this neighborhood for much longer."

"I expect to be underway within the hour," Lancaster replied, with no sign of fear. "One way or the other."

"Good. Second, the Federation Alliance needs to know what we've learned." Kreighen reached into his jacket and pulled out a datapad, which he left on the seat of the chair beside him. "It's a long story, so I did my best to summarize our logs. But to put it simply: We have bigger things to worry about than the Borg. And the Alliance will need Admiral Janeway's leadership if it's going to survive this war."

That endorsement caught most of his audience by surprise. Lancaster rang his bell to restore order, and spoke. "Commander, if you're here to speak on the defendant's behalf, that is your right. But your behavior--and the testimony of your associate, Mister Ajax--would suggest a more...acrimonious relationship with the admiral."

"I'm sure Ajax told you the truth to the best of his knowledge," Kreighen explained. "As far he knows, I formed a crew to take the shuttlecraft _Hrunting_ on an unauthorized mission, in an attempt to get myself court-martialed and shipped home. As far as he knows, Admiral Janeway exposed my plan and punished us all by sending us into enemy territory. And she'd deserve to be discharged from Starfleet..." He paused to glance at her, knowingly. "...if that was the whole truth."

Jimenez started to realize what was happening--or at least that it wasn't what he might have expected. "Jake, what are you--?"

"Trust me, Nathan," Kreighen interrupted. He meant that on multiple levels. "I know it's not easy, but we have to tell them. There's too much at stake now. My guess is that Janeway has tried to avoid the details of why she sent us off into Borg space, and this trial proves that her efforts have caught up with her. So I'll tell you what she's been covering up.

"I believed the war was going badly, and that the admiral was too stubborn to admit a stalemate and withdraw back to the Alpha Quadrant. I thought if she was forced to re-establish communications with Earth, Starfleet Command could order her to pull out. So I stole a shuttle and I got into enough trouble to get her attention.

"But when Janeway realized what I was trying to do, she tried to explain the situation to me. She told me how important it was that we hold the line, and about the danger to Earth if we transwarped home and the Borg managed to follow us. She wasn't out to punish me, or make me go away. She wanted me to understand her decisions so I could serve under her command more effectively.

"I didn't accept that; I'd only made lieutenant commander a few days earlier, and I was still a brash, hotheaded space jockey. I wanted my trial; she wouldn't give it to me. I wanted out of the service, but she still wouldn't send me home. She thought with enough time, I'd come around and see her side of things. So she gave me _Hrunting_ and my crew, and told me to go wherever I wanted. There weren't many places to run to, so we went with Unimatrix Zero until something better came up. Janeway made all the arrangements. If anyone asked, we were on liaison duty. But it was never some secret classified mission; it was a temper tantrum.

"For a long time I hated her, and all I wanted was to get back to the Alpha Quadrant." He looked back at her once again. "Admiral, when I had you in my sights a few minutes ago, I realized I used to dream about that moment a hundred times. But over the last seven months, I've seen the other side of this war, and what the Alliance is up against. I've seen things I can barely explain. And now I feel like the prodigal son, because I was wrong to run away. Janeway was right--retreat is not an option."

"Jake, this is insane!" Jimenez protested. "How can you go to bat for her after everything--"

"He knows what he's doing!" Ijhel insisted.

But that wasn't good enough for the engineer. "I don't care!"

"Ensign," Kreighen said, in a tone the higher-ranking officers in the room knew well. "The time for arguing about it is over. It has to be done. Captain Lancaster, there are obviously still hard feelings among my crew. I don't know if we can just waltz back into Starfleet, or that we ought to. But I can't have Admiral Janeway lose her career because she gave a mixed-up, ne'er-do-well officer a second chance."

"Well, Danny," Elglen muttered, "that just about torpedoes your whole case."

"Indeed," Lancaster admitted. Everything had rested on the Kreighen issue. If Lancaster hadn't confronted Janeway about it, it was possible she never would have had cause to attempt escape from the ship. Of course, the admiral had still placed the _Stormwind_ in terrible danger. But it was by now clear that this court martial would not solve that problem. "Under the circumstances, this court has no choice but to dismiss the charges, and restore the defendant to active duty--"

"No!" That was the last thing Lancaster heard before a phaser beam knocked him onto the floor.

On instinct, Kreighen turned his own weapon on the source of the blast. It took his brain another fraction of second to process that the shooter had been Ensign Jimenez. He meant to ask why. He meant to assert his authority over his young crewman. He meant to stun the kid and deal with him when they were safely back on the _Hrunting_

But he didn't have a chance to do any of those things, before Vystir shot him in the back.


	28. Chapter 28

As Kreighen hit the deck, he was surprised to find himself alive and only mildly stunned. The numbness in his arm suggested the blast was only intended to disarm him. It had worked; he'd dropped his rifle half a meter out of reach.

It was Vystir who had shot him, but it was Jimenez who was moving towards him, weapon in hand, with a look he'd never seen before in the ensign's face. Kreighen immediately feared the worst. "Nathan...it's Vystir...she's in your head...fight it..."

"No, Jake," he muttered. "This isn't her idea. It's mine." He looked up briefly at the Betazoid, which was enough for her to walk over to Janeway. "She has to pay for what she's done."

"There's more at stake than revenge--"

"Like what? Torture? Wrongful imprisonment? Think about everything she's put you through, Jake. You and me and Utana and Tirava--Tirava could be dead right now, for all you know!"

"I won't argue the point," Ijhel said, desperately hoping to intervene. "But we can settle all that without further bloodshed..."

"Why? So Janeway can weasel her way out of facing justice? I'm tired of running, I'm tired of living like a criminal when I never did anything wrong! I tried to go along with you, Jake, I really did. But it won't work if you're just going to give in."

From behind the bench, Captain Elglen thought he saw an opening. Jimenez was dividing his concentration, and Vystir was focused on keeping Janeway at gunpoint. The Bolian jumped onto the judges' table, and leaped into the air. It was a hopeless gamble, but the risk would be worth it if it gave anyone a chance to subdue Jimenez.

But he hadn't reckoned on the deep rapport Jimenez had developed with his telepathic lover. Vystir knew Elglen was making the move almost before Elglen did. With a reaction time that was impossible for a single man, Jimenez turned and fired.

Elglen fell like a stone, landing hard on his ankle and separating his shoulder. By now Lancaster had pulled himself off the floor, just in time to see his old friend cut down. He wouldn't even have a chance to attempt heroism, as Jimenez immediately fired again, to prevent further resistance.

"Captain!" Mindek cried. Her concern was genuine, but her outburst was a feint. As she hoped, it had kept Jimenez's attention occupied just a moment longer.

Kreighen had used the time well. He'd shifted closer to his rifle, and nearly had his finger on the stock. But Jimenez knew him too well to give him the chance, and quickly had his phaser pointed back at his friend. "I don't want to have to hurt you, Jake."

"Then don't! Let's just get out of here and talk it out later..."

"It's...it's too late for that." Jimenez's eyes darted around, looking for anyone else trying to be a hero. But with Vystir holding Janeway hostage, the security guards previously disarmed, and Ajax's combat subroutines disabled, there wasn't enough courage or foolishness to get in his way.

"Admiral Janeway is coming with us," Vystir explained. The admiral said nothing, preferring to watch and wait for her best next move. "You would only interfere, Commander."

"Why, Nathan?" Kreighen got up to one knee, daring his comrade to shoot him down. "Because you think I'm just letting her win? How about _you_ think about what we've been through, huh? We're caught in the middle of a galactic war, and it's getting worse! We've run out of options!"

"So you just surrender, then?"

He hated the word, but he wasn't going to let Jimenez bait him. He kept his voice calm and stern and spoke to him like a commander. "It's the only way, Nathan."

"If it is," Jimenez sneered. "You've picked the wrong side. They've been telling us all along, Jake. Resistance is futile, and I'm sick of the futility."

"What are you babbling about?" Ijhel asked, refusing to understand.

He turned and smiled to her. "You'll find out. Someday we'll all be together again."

Kreighen felt a sinking feeling in his stomach, but didn't let it stop him. As soon as Jimenez looked away, he jumped to his feet and tried to grab his crewmate. But Vystir was a hair faster--with a quick tap of her communicator, she'd triggered some sort of automated transporter beam from _Hrunting_. Kreighen found himself lunging at empty air as Jimenez and Vystir vanished...along with Admiral Janeway as their prisoner.

He fell to the ground, overcome with rage, fear, and a tinge of nausea. "Dammit! I didn't think--dammit to hell...!"

There wasn't time for Ijhel to spare a moment for him. Instead she addressed highest-ranking officer still standing. "There must be some way we can stop them!" she implored Mindek.

"I doubt that," the Benzite said stoically. "We're dead in the water. And without the admiral to release her security lockouts, we're likely to stay that way."

"Lockouts?" Ijhel looked to Ajax for clarification. "What is she talking about--?" But the hologram had already joined the security guards, attending to Lancaster and Elglen. She heard them contacting sickbay, and thought better of disturbing them.

Which just left Kreighen, kneeling on the deckplate, staring helplessly into his own hands.

"Commander, we have to do something!" Ijhel thundered.

But there was nothing to do, and he knew it. "He's defecting," he rambled. "I should have seen...shouldn't have let her near him..."

She knelt beside him, hoping to get through to him. But when she looked into his eyes, and saw his despair, she couldn't deny her own. Jimenez was so disillusioned with Starfleet that he preferred to fight against them, even if that meant siding with the Borg. She could barely even think it, it was so incredible. But it had just happened.

And yet, she was a Cardassian, and she wasn't about to let herself shed any tears. She slapped Kreighen hard across the face. "We don't have time for self-pity!" she shouted. "The Borg will be here any time now!"

Mindek's eyes widened as she realized Ijhel was right. "We need to get to the bridge."

As the Benzite hurried out of the mess hall, Ijhel put all her strength into shoving Kreighen back on his feet. He stood like a sleepwalker, but he wasn't completely gone. Stunned as he was, he knew she was right, and followed Mindek to the nearest turbolift. Ijhel threw his arm around her, and pushed him onward, not daring to leave him unattended. Everyone on this ship would need his help, she reasoned, and he would need hers.

When they finally stepped off the turbolift onto the bridge, Kreighen finally said something halfway intelligible. "This won't work," he groaned. "We need to get to the observation lounge." He had a point. The bridge's stations, monitors, and main viewscreen were all useless, blocked out by a monolithic omega symbol. The best sensor readings they could hope for was to look out a window.

Together Ijhel and Kreighen barged into the lounge, where they found Mindek and a couple of the _Stormwind_ 's other senior officers. From the windows they could see the bleak emptiness of space, the sparse lights of distant stars...and a Borg vessel dropping out of warp, approaching them at sublight speed.

Ship-to-ship communication was down. So the hailing frequency came in through the crew's commbadges. Thousands of voices echoed throughout the ship, intoning the familiar words of doom. "WE ARE THE BORG. EXISTENCE AS YOU KNOW IT IS OVER. YOUR BIOLOGICAL AND TECHNOLOGICAL DISTINCTIVENESS WILL BE ADDED TO OUR OWN. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE."

As Jake Kreighen listened to the ominous refrain, he could only hear Jimenez's voice...


End file.
